Agh. If I could back in time to two years ago, I have no idea what forces could have been powerful enough to persuade John and me to buy a house. Any friends or co-workers who revel in the idea of their future home get a response from me of "Don't do it! Want to buy mine? You can have it!"
American dream with home ownership is bullshit. I probably have posted about this before. Guaranteed.
Our apartment in Parsippany was cluttered and now our house is cluttered... I clearly will never be Ms. Domestic and actually don't really care too much about my lack of domesticity.
I think of all the extra money we would have if we had the apartment again. I'd make sure we went on trips and, blissfully, pissed away quite a bit of our money. Now, our money goes to sewer bills, higher electric bills, property taxes, etc. Our yard looks like shit and I don't care. The grass is truly greener on the "other side"-- ours is barely existent and its growth is stunted by stubborn moss, infertile soil, and persistent weeds.
But we do have tons of cilantro sprouting up. That's a positive. And our hastas managed to re-bloom...or...re-grow...whatever the term is.
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