Facebook fantasy friend’s life

I have someone on my Facebook that requested me after I shot pictures of their home for an article on a fundraiser.
She lives in the rich part of town, in a huge house which entryway is two stories high with a large gold-and-crystal chandelier, bronze statues, and a muraled ceiling.
It was immaculate…white carpet everywhere, Murano glass mirrors and decorations and cherubs flewon the ceiling of the two daughters’ bedrooms. A long staired walkway led down to a view of their giant waterfall they had in their back yard, compete with a fantastic view of the local golf course and gold balls scattered about.
It was both WOW! I wish I could live there and WOW! I could never live here, all at the same time.
The owner glided through her home in a dress and heels (she prefers to wear heels, even at home, I remember her saying).
And here is sit, in my Kmart velour pants and hoodie (hey, I thought I would feel a little fancier being covered in baby spit up if it was red and velvet-y) and socks on my cold feet.
She seemed very nice, fun loving, etc. She and her husband are both very friendly and seem down-to-earth. And both are around my age.
I really wonder what her day-to-day life is like… what cleaning does she do? How much cooking does she do? Does she stay home all day, or run out to Los Angeles to shop all of the time?
It seems like it the kind of fantasy life that I would want… even some of her Facebook comments seem to show a wonderful life… except for the comments about her going to a therapist. Not that I have any idea why, but if something happened bad enough in her life that she needed therapy, do I really worship that life? I only see what was put in front of me that day, overwhelming as it was to experience.
I prefer to fantasize… someday our lives will cross again.