I'm jealous of our neighbors and their top floor condo with red walls and vaulted ceilings. I come home from playing scabble and eating pistachios and our place seems like a cave. A cave with a giant bean bag on the floor, baby toys and a low ceiling. It's gross. There is a lot of crumbs and dried pasta and baby formula under the microwave and I refuse to clean it up. We let the cat destroy the arms of our couch so not only does it look like something from a swamp, but it is curiously fuzzy. The ceiling fan doesn't work. The carpet is matted. The pictures on the wall are not hung expertly in clever, pleasing formations, despite my yearbook editor experience. The coffee table is still against the wall in in our bedroom. My scrapbook stuff is in a plastic rainbow rolling cart in the MAIN ROOM. There is a chair against the fridge to keep it closed. I HATE IT!
I want a new couch, the green one that wraps around from Costco. I want an electrician to fix the fan. Kristen says "you should see my "CRAFT ROOM!" CRAFT ROOM!!!?? I have a ROLLING RAINBOW CART! I want a fridge that stays closed on its own. I want a maid.
Mostly, I want a house. A small house, with ample closet space, and a craft room. Zar says "lets be out of here in three years." Three years? I will be 28. I should be rich by then, living in a $400,000 home with a hot tub, right? how is that possibly going to happen? I just spent almost $200 on sugar free cookies and strained peas! I almost bought a "diamondique" ring off QVC today! I am not a saver.
I want a couch. And a house. And red walls and ceiling fan that...fans.
But I still want sugar free cookies and dinners out and whatever other crap I buy that eats at my paycheck. I wish Zar was independently wealthy. And would let me hire a maid.