Dave and I spent most of the first two years of our marriage obsessed with how we were going to save and afford our home one day. We had given ourselves the goal of being in our own home within three years.
With the average Australian home loan being nearly $300,000, we were both becoming really stressed about achieveing this goal.
We then came to our senses one day and realised that we don't in fact need to own our own house for it to be our home.
Owning our own home is not the be all and end all, and that having no debt is actually quite freeing.
In saying that I do often dream about what it would be like to paint our walls whenever, and whatever colour we liked. The nondecript, butter colour doesn't always do it for me. Neither do the strange-shade-of-green-curtains in the lounge room. The ones that went delightfully with our blue couch.
And it would be nice to be able to do something about the back of the house, the part where it has started sinking. (I'm not kidding. You can feel the slope as you walk towards the back door and if you put something round on the kitchen bench it will roll towards the backyard!.)
I also dream of having an updated kitchen and bathroom, with decent cupboards and a pantry.
But really, I have clean, fresh water that comes out of the old faucets at whatever temperature I want, and it doesn't make ill to drink it straight from them.
I might need to get a little more creative in how I decorate (thankgoodness for the GM removeable photo hooks) but at the end of the day there is only one thing that makes a house a home, and it isn't whether I own it or not, it is whether there is love in it or not.