Dreaming big

There are times in life I realise I'm wired differently from everybody else. It’s not necessarily a bad thing, just, different. I'm reminiscing on the delirious excitement of owning your first home. Walking in, knowing this is all mine. It’s a rush, its exhilarating. Not because you know you have somehow made it in life in terms of society’s standards of career, home, car, family checklist (Of which I’m at 2 out of 4). Instead it’s the sheer excitement of No Rules and utter Freedom!

I walked into my brother's new place last week and since then I've been excited. A blank canvas. My mind has been in over-drive on what he needs or what I like and think will be spectacular at his new place. Ashamedly I've even flicked through catalogues to check out what is on sale and how to make my Magic plastic swipey card purchase these wonderful pieces without the bank account depleting and most importantly without the husband finding out. With the minor detail of convincing my brother his new place came furnished in tasteful decor that screams out Naomi. But what I’m most excited about is the camping out my brother will have in his new place. Sleeping on the floor for the first few weeks. Eating off a make shift table erected with bricks and a plank of wood.

Most people dream of having a home filled with coordinating modern furniture. And I, dream of eating breakfast over the sink and keeping my perishables inside an esky with a block of ice. Perhaps I should give my furniture to my brother and experience the joys he's soon to experience?

For I was robbed of the opportunity of roughing it.