House

I really want to own a house. Strangely, I think about it all the time. On the surface, it's mundane. A house. Yay. How exciting. But it's not the house per se, it's the life that goes with the house that I want. I guess what I'm yearning for is stability.

Don't get me wrong - I wouldn't trade my life so far for anything. I love that I travelled and lived in different countries and met awesome people that I wouldn't have otherwise met. I feel more 'myself' than I ever have in my life. I'm doing exactly the sort of work that I think I'm on this planet to do. I'm with a woman who absolutely completes my life perfectly, who challenges my mind, who listens to my heart, who inspires my creativity and who touches my soul. I'm happy.

I want a house because I want to be able to own something tangible, to sit in a room with four walls and know that it is mine. I want to build a deck, to learn about electrical and plumbing. I want to be that guy. Living in a flat, besides lining someone else's pocket, makes me feel restless. The best I can do is keep it clean and possibly paint or buy furniture. But owning a house offers weekends and years of possibilities. It's looking into an empty room with Leigh and planning out what we can do with it, what sorts of happiness we can create and share, with whom. It's about putting some roots down and having an open door policy where friends can pop by for a coffee and a chat. It's simple, but I want simple.