I could just eat myself up. Actually, I don't know if I agree with this. In my current (and never-ending) stressed out state, I think I could be more like an ice cream made out of strawberries that were picked too early. And then maybe if someone left the carton of this sour, non-ripened strawberry ice cream in the freezer WAY too long, that might be me. So basically, you see it thinking you're going to get a nice sweet treat, but boy would you be wrong... (just ask my husband!)
I don't really want a 'dream home'. I don't want to settle down in one house to raise my kids and then grandkids and then great-grandkids. I don't want to be trapped within the confines of the same exact walls from this moment until the day I die. The whole idea sounds like torture. Sometimes my house feels like a prison. (Although, I think it may have something to do with the little wardens that keep me from leaving at my leisure.) And once I've lived in one place long enough I just get really really bored. We've been married for 8 years and moved 7 times. I always hate the moving part, but I do like being somewhere new. And the house we're in right now is actually perfect for us. Just the size we need, great neighbors, close to the school, blah blah blah. The only thing is that we're renting and I can't paint the walls. I like painting walls. But for the most part, I really like living here. Granted, we've only lived here for seve...
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