I’ve spent the last couple of days looking at houses. I’ve only just started the process and know I have a long few months ahead of me, but who cares? I’m buying my own home and feeling a bit proud of myself for having the ability to do so.
I’ve worked hard to be independent.
I never wanted to be one of those women whose life revolves around a man. The kind of girl who live in his house and let his paycheck buy my groceries. I’m better than that. I’m stronger than that.
Now before I get a bunch of hate mail, I’m not talking about married couples; things are different when you are married and have children. I’m not married and I don’t have children. So until then, the walls I paint will be my own walls, and there’s something wildly satisfying about that kind of independence.
It’s like a great bottle of wine, but with less calories and way more elitism.