The hubby asked me yesterday afternoon if I really wanted a small new house. He knew it all too well, since I have been outspoken about it even after our first home was built, but I guess he was trying to check if my mind had changed.
Sorry darling, but nope!
Not that I dislike bigger houses; I adore them!
I grew up in the big blue house, but even so, my heart has been set on a more compact style鈥攁 2-bedroom home with floor-to-ceiling glass walls for the living room, wider doorways, and enough yard space for a garden to grow beautiful things, and a lawn.
And yeah, step-free (no staircases) too!
Why is that?
Because I'm a lazy arse when it comes to climbing up stairs. And my knees tend to complain, and they wouldn't stop bugging me, lol馃槄
That reminded me of my cousin who now lives in a 4-storey home, and their bedroom is on the fourth floor. She told us that climbing to bed each night feels like a chore. "How much more so if we get older?" She laughed, but I understood and could relate to what she was driving at. She's in her late 30s now.
That, seeing Dad live alone in a multi-level house with unused spaces, and having seen Mom struggle on the stairs, solidified my preference for a small home. A single-level haven that aligns with minimalist living, one that prioritizes safety, and yep, ease of upkeep or maintenance.
The hubby said, "Then we can have it there so you will have a lengthy garden," pointing at the farther end (west side) of the property. I imagined for a moment, seeing that the living room had a view of both the east and west, the lawn and garden stretching alongside evergreen hedges and picket fences. "I would love it," I said, smiling ear to ear.
"And so it is!" he declared as he stood up, offering his hand for me to stand up as well. "Merienda?" He asked. "Sure! Hot choco, please," I agreed. Hand in hand, we walked back into our lil bodega.
Image by Rana Matloob Hussain. 03072026/09:12ph*
