Backup Offers Welcome: The Circular Driveway to Nowhere

From The Desk Of Beelzebubba the Third

Step right up, backup offer! The realtor says 'under contract,' but I, Beelzebubba the Third, am still accepting second-place souls—and this house is the perfect trap.

It's got a circular driveway that loops back into the void, a kitchen with a literal heartbeat, and a 'water closet' that is exactly what it sounds like. Don't let the Winter Park brick charm fool you: the bricks are load-bearing secrets, and they're all mine.

Welcome, backup buyer, to my favorite kind of 'under contract'—the kind where the contract is written in 1951 drywall dust and signed with a gold cabinet handle. I’m Beelzebubba the Third, and I’ve personally renovated this listing’s reality. Let’s begin in the foyer: the soaring ceilings aren’t just tall, they’re aspirational, which is why they lift off at dusk and have to be tied down with French doors.

The engineered hardwood runs throughout the main living areas, and by 'engineered' I mean it was designed to creak precisely under the foot of anyone trying to sneak to the 1951 side of the house at 3 a.m.

The kitchen is the heart of the home—literally. The quartz countertops were harvested from a cave of sighs, the custom oak cabinets are fitted with gilded teeth that snap shut if you take the last snack, and the center island has seating only for those who can prove they’ll sit still while the floor tilts. The gas range is original to the concept of 'gaslighting.'

The original portion preserves 1951 in a perfect time capsule: two bedrooms, one 'primary suite' with a walk-in closet that walks in wider circles than your driveway, and a hall bathroom where the tiles hum hymns. The 2000s addition on the opposite side is a full owner’s retreat—because you will retreat from the original side. Its vaulted ceilings are actual bank-vault doors, for when you need to lock away your life choices. The private water closet is a closet. Full of water. No toilet.

The fourth bedroom is tucked into its own wing—a wing that flutters when the AC kicks on. The .24-acre lot is generous the way a single stale mint is generous. Room to add a pool? Certainly—the pool will be the entire yard. A long driveway leads to a rear one-car carport, where you may park one car after a journey. Roof 2020, AC 2021, but the dread is timeless. Minutes from Park Avenue shopping, if you measure minutes in eons.