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Your home is a Futuristic Headquarters
Your kitchen consists of dilithium-powered food replicators, manned by obedient robot slaves, who are sure to never, ever rebel. I mean, it's preposterous to even consider it. There's a pantry stocked with beef jerky. Oh, and deer jerky. Your master bedroom is decorated to look like the treetop village of the Galadhrim. Your study This includes all Star Wars novels cross-referenced by incongruities. One of your garages contains a life-sized X-Wing fighter, and KITT. (KITT was a gift from a well-meaning uncle.)
Your home also includes a robot repair bay, where your mechanized servants are routinely fitted with new restraining bolts. (It's just a precaution.) Your guests enjoy your animatronic replica of the cantina at Mos Eisley. Outside is your radio telescope, listening constantly for alien transmissions. Especially invaders. They'll come eventually, even if nobody believes you. (Nobody does.)
Below is a snippet of the blueprints:
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