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Saturday, February 2, 2013


They're ugly as hell but so comfortable. Photo:

When I grew up with my parents we lived in a villa. I never liked the work that needed to be done outside the house so I happily moved into an apartment when I got my first job. And I loved it: in winter I didn't have to care about ploughing snow or sanding the pavement, in summer I didn't have to move the lawn or care about gardening otherwise either. Gardening means epilation and waxing to me anyways, not growing flowers or veggies. And living in the city center was a dream come true to me: everything was near within walking distance and the public transport took me where else I ever wanted.

So when Husband started insisting that he wanted to move in a villa I was really sceptical. Not least because he wanted to move to the countryside but mainly because he was never at home and I had too much to do already. But he kept insisting and telling me how it's "better for the kids to live in a proper house". Husband's idea was to move to a city where we knew absolutely no-one. His drive to work would have been shorter from there. That's about where the benefits ended. After a huge amount of fighting I managed to negotiate a deal that we would move in a villa but stay in the same city and live near my parents. So we moved to the suburb, to a "proper house".

Husband seems happy here although he'd prefer living in the countryside. I'm bored to death and would like to move back to the city center - but I guess I'll adapt. And this new form of living has activated Husband a bit at home. More about that a bit later!

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