My husband has recently started hinting that we need to find a bigger house and move.
I’m not sure if I’m emotionally ready for this, because even though I sometimes complain about not having enough cabinet space or a place for all my crafty supplies, I love this house. It is the ME of houses–beautiful and sparkly when it was brand new but also incredibly broken and messed up and put together badly.
This was the first really, really, REALLY big purchase we made together almost 20 years ago as a married couple. This was the house that almost 17 years ago I brought my son home to with his cute as heck yellow and blue classic Winnie the Pooh themed nursery.
This is the house where I absolutely lost my mind and had to be dragged out of here, screaming and hysterically sobbing and shaking when I had my miscarriage.
Little and broken and messed up as it is, I have spent half my life in this house and I’m not ready to let it go yet.
Hubs insists it’s time we move on up to a bigger place, with room for both his home office and a crafting space for me and larger bedrooms for both us and our son.
But…I’m not ready. I’m not sure I’ll ever be emotionally ready to let go of my little, broken, badly wired house with not enough cabinet space that has always felt it was designed by drunk monkeys on crack.
I may have to be ready at some point…Hubs says he wants to start looking at houses and I won’t go with him, because he’s picky as heck and I don’t even like going grocery shopping with him because of how long it takes him to make a decision on every single thing, so house shopping together would be right out. He’ll find what he likes and then ask me what I think, which is fine with me.
But I hope it takes him a long, long, LONG time to find a house he thinks is going to be perfect.
Because I’m not even close to ready to let go of this one yet.