On Saturday we were offered a three-bedroom house. The rent would've been less than what we're paying at the moment. I got excited when I thought of all the space, the washing machine and the oven that would actually work. In my mind I was already planting carrots into the garden and baking cakes.
Himself on the other hand wasn't too happy about the idea. He said the main reason was the area and him being worried about his gear. We listed the pros and cons, my only con being the fact that he didn't feel good about it.
Later he told me that he would feel bad leaving his first proper home. That obviously changed everything. I have never felt sad leaving an apartment or a house, because nowhere has ever felt like home. I was always delighted to pack my stuff and go, or just leave my things behind if I needed to. I even lived out of a suitcase of stuff for six months at some stage. But I can still understand how important it is to have a feeling of "home", and I just couldn't take that away from someone. So I told we couldn't take the house.
I know I did the right thing, but I'm still walking around on autopilot. I keep looking at the piles of stuff everywhere and feel like crying. But not to worry; I promise to pull myself together soon! Even though I'm not going to get more space, I can create myself a starry sky with some glow in the dark stars.
There's always a compromise...
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