I've always wanted to live in a little studio apartment. But not just any studio. I want one of those fancy New York studios with the brick walls and the worn wood flooring and the open kitchen.
I know, a studio apartment is not really practical for the amount of stuff Scott and I have, but maybe one day, after or during the zombie apocalypse, we'll find a studio apartment and be happy. We'll have plants growing in the windows and knotted fabric tied on a rod for our curtains and random pieces of furniture that have survived the destruction.
One can hope....
I Used to Live in a House
Really. Scott and I owned a house. It was a cute thing with a tiny back yard.
Well, it was more than cute. I loved that place!
When we went house shopping and walked into that house, I knew it was the place for us because of the flooring. It was a grayish-brown laminate wood. Beautiful!
And the kitchen was open to the living room. And there were lots of windows letting in natural lighting. And the countertops were granite. And there was a place for a big fridge. And the master bedroom had a walk-in closet. And it had three bedrooms so we could turn one into an office and the other into a hopeful place for a kid. And it had an unfinished basement with lots of potential!
Peeps, I loved that house. LOVED. IT!
But It Was Not Meant to Be
A year ago, we moved. I can't believe it has been that long!
We moved because we realized... wait, this is important... we are not the Joneses. Nope. We are the Comtes. And we do things different than the Joneses. And we really like being the Comtes.
Here's what happened. I had my anxiety attack —I won't go over all the details again —and then we realized we needed to reevaluate our lives. Were we doing what we really wanted to be doing? Were we happy?
The answers led us to making a lot of cha