Twinkies are food? In what sense?
I’m not convinced they’re even baryonic matter.
I’d buy a darling oceanfront condo overlooking the Pacific Ocean in Maui.
I’m with you there.
I’d spend 3 million on land. Here that would buy me about 1000 acres. I’d put in a perimeter road & mark the boundary with a plain barbed-wire fence.
Then I’d build an earth-sheltered home as close to the center as I could.
The rest would go into utilities, and a lake for my hubby. Oh, and cows, he likes cows.
Parts of this could be in harvestable timber, so hubby could go ahead and retire. Me, I’d keep on working.
That’s probably the biggest limitation. Because while I can imagine a nice house I’d like to build, the realities of planning board approval, builder’s schedules and so forth may make the one year timeframe difficult. So I’d probably look at what existing homes are available, perhaps in Manhattan.
I 'spect the OP did that on purpose. Everybody knows what a dick he is.
Realistically, nothing. I wouldn’t want a 5 million dollar house because the taxes and insurance would be hugely unbearable.
Otherwise if that wasn’t a concern, the house would be large but not huge. But it would have forests, parks, ponds, several levels underground, hiking trails, a large garage with many cars, and a small movie theatre.
Just because you have a $5 million dollar budget doesn’t mean you have to spend it all. You just can’t spend any more than that, and what you leave unused goes back to Lex Luthor (minus whatever amount the accountants figure you’ll need to cover the taxes. Man, what will be an annoyingly recursive calculation).
Can I wait to see whether I’ve been accepted into uni or not? It changes the location I’d choose (Edinburgh or Barcelona). I’m assuming I’m not obligated to sleep in the house every night, because if I am, then it limits work options (I’m a consultant and tend to take international projects; my governments are happy to consider that I “reside” in a house I actually see once every few months, as the legal setup allows it) - plus I get nervous if I have to stay put, as opposed to wanting to stay put.
I don’t see why not. The one-year-countdown doesn’t start till you say, “Cool, where do I sign?” Just don’t sign till you’re ready to start.
It saddens me that it has not occurred to you that that problem is best solved with bribes. Many, many bribes. The Grand Nagus died in vain, in seems.
I’ve no need for a $5 million house. I’d build the most energy-efficient house I possibly could, about 4,000 or 5,000 square feet. (I want a couple of workshops and rooms for my collections.) Any leftover money would be for a compromise of land and efficient small dwellings (‘outbuildings’, if you will 
) that could be rented to people who need them.
Outbuildings are permitted. Outhouses are not. Anyone who assays to assemble an outhouse will be buried alive in one, assuming one can be found for the burial.
Oh, there will be internal plumbing! 
Lots of glass. Lots and lots of wide open spaces and room for natural sunlight to come in. All of the glass would have one of those buttons you can hit that makes it instantly black. If there’s any money left over, I add a bowling alley.
No recursion necessary. Algebra is your friend. Total gift = (Intended Gift) / (1- marginal tax rate).
Anyway, if I wasn’t trying to game the system by getting a house I was planning on selling, I’d start making progressively more ridiculous offers on the nicest houses in my neighborhood or the nearby one (the nicest ones are worth a lot more than mine). Which will get me probably into the seven-figure range depending on how ridiculous. Then a money-is-no-object complete renovation to add solar panels, super efficient everything, whirlpool, and professional-level kitchen (one year? oohh, that just makes it easier to burn through the money). Whatever is left goes into antiques and art. I think without a mortgage, I could pay the tax on that.
Why did you kick my joke in the shin? What the hell did that joke ever do to you? It’s a very small and feeble little joke that spent all of 8th grade crying in the locker room because the bigger jokes were mocking it and giving it atomic wedgies. Now you have to come along and kick it. Why?
Why are you pissing on the the idea of an outhouse? Or, if you prefer, poo-pooing it? It saves water and creates nice fertilizer.
In my childhood, I was deeply traumatized by outhouses. The mere mention of them still sends me into a venomous rage. Your post so infuriated me that I walked outside, found a puppy, and picked it up intending to snap its neck. Happily, the puppy’s mother was in sight, and being a Presa Canario, was able to rescue her child and maim me for my vile plan, as was only proper. I am typing this with my nose, as it will at least half an hour before my arms can be reattached. Stupid socialized medicine.
If there had been an outhouse nearby, you could have stopped its jaws with a corncob.
We don’t need outhouses. It’s quite possible to recycle human waste indoors using a commercial composting toilet. Hardware stores in cottage country have them on sale all the time.
As my cousin said, “It’s a hell of a lot cheaper than building the biggest septic system on Miller Lake.” Well, actually, he didn’t. But he should have.