We live with my husband’s parents, and we are paying off a lot of debt. It’s been incredibly helpful and Nicholas loves living out in the country. He gets to run and play and explore. W is getting his master’s degree right now and we’re going to live with his parents until he’s done and has a job. It’s possible that we’ll leave the town we live in now, but it’s equally possible that W will find a job here and we’ll stay. Regardless, we won’t be moving for at least 8 months or so, and his parents have been great to ask us to live with them to save money and try to get ahead. Those are all wonderful and important things. [Do you hear the “but” coming?]
But, I am so ready for a house. I’ve never lived in my own house. I want a space that we can paint and arrange and care for. Something that we are going to own. Something we aren’t renting. I have always liked the apartments I’ve lived in, and they fit my needs at the time, but I want a yard. I want us to be responsible for mowing and watering and battling worms and aphids. I want a home.
Living in an apartment, and now with W’s parents, has never bothered me before. The feeling I have about having a house right now is a lot like the longing I had when we were trying to get pregnant with N. Every time I saw a baby back then, it hurt that we hadn’t been able to have a baby of our own. While I don’t hurt when I see houses for rent or for sale, I sure do notice them.
I’m sure the feeling has intensified since we moved to sharing a space with other people that isn’t our own (or even our own rented). The trick will now be not to go overboard and when we have the chance to have a home of our own. I have a feeling I might just jump at the first place that presents itself!
I probably should stop watching the Style network and HGTV. It just makes my home envy even worse. Excuse me while I turn off the television.