The past two years have been a whirlwind. Well, maybe a snail’s whirlwind by some standards, but a whirlwind nonetheless. As a child, I could never dream that boredom could be a blessing, but in my updated 30+ state, I’ve found that appearances can be deceiving. And yes, I’m feeling a bit nostalgic so the punchiness may come through. Clichés too. So watch out, the sky may fall on you.
And so, with some recent big-girl decisions that came with being thirty, a phrase that continues to bring a sigh in the back of my mind, I hope that some of this wind will die down by August. Without trying it jinx it all, The Hubby and I are trying to buy a house. The non-conformist of my youth is absolutely screaming at me as I type that sentence.
A house? Seriously?
Which, of course, does nothing to quell the seas of my life. Thank god I don’t easily get seasick. One of those famous traits that did not pass down the gene line from my mother. Thank you very much dominant daddy genes, you allow me the simple joys of roller coasters and paddle boats.
But back to this house thing. Yes. House. 30 (that damn number again!) year mortgages. Property taxes. Home association fees. More insurance. More money out of pocket. Bleed me dry. Where is the plus side in this again? Someone remind me? Oh, I get to do more chores, clean more crap, buy more crap and thank you for the privilege of crap?