Of all the psychological impacts of buying a house is starting to think of it as "my future house". I can't shake the feeling that I'm some love-sick kid talking about my "future husband".
As the time draws nearer, I've started coming to terms with the fact that my future resides in a green kitchen, bedrooms with a fireplace in between the closets, and let us not forget the catalyst: my pink bathroom ceramics.
My future is in a pink sink and tub. And I couldn't be more happy.
And also terrified. I oscillate between elation and the unjustifiable fear that the purchase of a house will kill me.
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