Jeff and Kelly bought a house. A townhouse, actually, but property of their own, nonetheless. It’s brick and very cute, with a backyard and everything. I am excited for them. More than I thought I would be about something so standard as buying a house. It’s strange that I even feel a little jealous. Although it makes some sense. I think as much as I feel restless, there’s a desire for security in me, too. And it’s not that I don’t feel secure. It’s just that I feel temporary. My apartment, as cozy as it is, only feels like half a home, when I think in terms of real estate.

There are a lot of Chamber members who are realtors. And I know that when the time comes, many of them will be glad to help James and me buy a condo or townhouse of our own. And I have so much more to think of besides mortgages, closing costs, not to mention furniture purchases and repair and decorating. I still have a wedding to plan. He still has a job to find. We still have a car to buy. And a wedding to plan. And then there’s school, still.

I hope that by next year we can move into a place of our own. I know he wants to travel, but no one said you had to keep a house forever. People move all the time. And they say that it’s not even that much more per month than renting. Besides, someone needs to have the kind of job that sends you to live in foreign countries for awhile before we can plan on a few years abroad. And then, we could always sell or rent the place.

I want a house. Send me money so I can buy one.


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