We’ve been living here since December 2005 and you would have never – not once – heard/read me saying that I love my home. Not only do I not love it, I actually fucking detest it.
This flat was purchased without my consent – 3-room flat in an area I did not want to live in – and I have never stopped feeling miffed about it. It was (and still is) a waste of the first-time homeowners’ grant and renovation costs. I’m not even going to go into the hassle of packing and moving.
Call me hung up, but especially at this point when we’re expecting our 2nd child and every bit of space is precious commodity, it is starting to irk me even more than ever.
I have spent countless nights vexing over how to plan this small area to accommodate everything we would need and want in an ideal home. From the time this stupid place was bought, until now when we’re 3.5 years in and preparing for Keegan’s arrival. And it sucks.
For someone who spends bulk of her time at home, the last thing I need is to feel stifled by the lack of space in my own abode. No, “Home Sweet Home” is not a phrase I would use at all. Not now, not yet.
Regardless of how much brain-racking and masterful planning, it will never change the fact that there is only one toilet – which is conveniently separated from the bathroom – and that the living room will always remain the same narrow rectangular shape that I dislike, nor that there is no master bedroom. It will also never be able to squeeze out a proper work area without sacrificing a whole lot of something else.
I’m not a fan of “cosy living”. Give me a wide open living space where I can fit in everything we’d ever need. I’m so tired of fucking around with this lousy limited space to try and squeeze out more room.
I can’t wait to get out of here once the 5-year HDB bond is over.