Homeless

So, as superficially horrible as I feel about this, one of the things I miss most about my married life is my house and furniture. I spent most of the nights of my adolescent years sleeping on either a couch or the floor of the two-bedroom apartment in which my family of seven lived. I had always looked forward to the distant time when I would live in a real house with nice furniture.

At the same time, living without the things that all my friends had taught me to be careful with my money. When I was living on my own, with roommates, I did fairly well for myself. I managed my finances without too much trouble, and it seemed like things would work out eventually.

The circumstances in which my husband and I got our house were unusual, and I didn't feel comfortable about it. For a while, I was stupid enough to voice my opinion as if it actually mattered, but I slowly learned my lesson. My husband expected that I would be ecstatic about having things I had never had, no matter what the circumstances, and didn't like that I had other thoughts. I suppose he had good intentions.

Well, I learned to really like that house. I loved the furniture. But, just as this started to be the case, I became aware of the need to end my marriage, and the unusual circumstances meant that I had to walk away from all of it. I may or may not get some of the furniture in the divorce settlement. I'm not sure if I want it, because I have a tendency to attach memories to physical objects.

Now my mom is living in a better situation than she was in my younger days, and she's allowing me to live in her house. I have my own bed, but it's not like the bed I chose for my house. This is one of many reasons that, the next time I marry, it will be for money.