The only house we ever owned when I was a kid. (of course, it was government subsidized) I know you're all jealous of it's avocado green color. Guess which year in the early seventies it was built?
I dream about houses a lot. These houses usually get bigger and more complicated as the dream progresses. The rooms lead into other rooms that have strange shapes and odd colors. Sometimes, I have a moment of clarity when I realize that I'm already renting an apartment and couldn't possibly live in the house I'm walking through. Every once in a while, I'm sad that I don't own the house I thought I owned at the beginning of my dream, but usually I'm relieved that I'm not responsible for a home that keeps morphing and becoming more complicated and unmanageable by the minute.
Lately, I've been talking to Mr. Dateman about the possibility of me buying a house. Like my dreams, the conversations can either make me hopeful or stressed out. On the one hand, I love the idea of not throwing money away to a landlord, but I know that it would be hard to afford the kind of house I want in an area where I could comfortably live. I'm spoiled by living so close that I can walk to work and the girls can walk to school. I remember when we first rented our place, Coadster said, "Mom, it's perfect. It's on your running route." I don't know if I should be happy or worried that my girls are so aware of my need for routine. I'm pretty sure that any house I could afford to buy, would mean that I'd have to create a new running route altogether. Of course, I also know that anything I choose to do might involve making a sacrifice for something else, and if that sacrifice would mean I'd actually have my own bedroom, I could probably figure out a way to make it work.