My homeowner coworkers discussed their septic tank, snow clearing and other home-related issues. I pronounced that I think I will be a permanent renter.
So
why a permanent renter? I don't know if I ever
want to establish roots. Or more so, I don't know how to. The longest I
lived in a home was 4 years (8th grade through first half of 12th
grade) - been to 7 different elementary or middle schools before staying
put in high school. I am not angry or damaged by it (some may disagree
with that), that is just the reality. And things like that impact
someone - one way or another.
I am just me -
Maybe some women aren't meant to be tamed. Maybe they need to
run free until they find someone just as wild to run with them. As Cullen Bohannon said: always have one eye on the door. For now.
I then continued to say that if I marry someone, we may eventually determine to establish our stronghold somewhere permanently, but maybe not. They might be a nomad like me. Or, I would just marry someone rich and famous (not necessarily famous, but rich), and we could buy a house... just because we could; and up and go as we wanted. Wouldn't that be somethin'? (I am centered in reality - but a girl can dream).
Not
to mention, I am allergic to grass and pollen, so mowing lawns is a no
go. I don't need sprawling spaces every day - just maybe a plot
of land or a balcony to read my book and listen to my Metsies on the
radio. Of course, I do need my fix of bonfires and fields and farms - in doses. While I may be handy with a hammer, nails and a wrench -
handling all that on my own is not my bag.
In
response: "well, when you are rich (or marry someone rich) you can pay
someone to take care of the lawn and various chores." Touche, my
friend. Touche.
Of course, since I dropped the M-bomb in a hypothetical ("if") scenario, the focus turned to the "when" instead of the "if." Yes, I did made a promise to myself that I wouldn't even think of marriage or kids or any other established commitment until 30. I made that promise to myself - something I had to do for me based on the things that went down in my childhood and wayward thoughts I had on commitment in college. And here comes 30. Just because the promise sunsets come November 7th, doesn't mean the hunt is on (well, unless you are Anson Mount, Bradley Cooper, or Kenny Chesney); it does mean that I am ushering into a new phase, and maybe the provision will ultimately be extended. Husband hunting season doesn't necessarily open when the sun rises on 30.
For now, I am content in my one bedroom apartment solo. I always have one eye on the door and a hold on my own heart. Until someone gets me to let go of it (and proves they are worthy of it) or some place proves they deserve me to establish myself in one spot, I am a non-permanent resident of here, but a permanent resident of me. Running wild on a one-woman journey until I maybe find someone to be free and wild with me.
