Green Acres

I have a burning desire to live on a farm. At the start of my sophomore year of high school we moved to fifteen acres in the country and stayed there until after I graduated college. It was incredible. The feeling of freedom and space is incomparable. My wife understands this as well, having grown up on nearly 200 acres of beautiful Michigan farmland. Prior to marriage we agreed that I would move into her condo, but we would immediately begin looking for land, either with or without a house. Well, nearly three years later we are still in the condo, and I am beyond miserable. This is actually one of the major issues in our marriage. There was a fantastic time to buy a new place, but that time seems to have passed us by. Interest rates have gone up a bit and there is just nothing currently available in the area we are interested in. Previously we we could have borrowed $100k more than we currently are for the same monthly payment when you factor in rates plus the current HOA fee. So why didn’t we buy before you ask? Well, I got “comfort zoned”. That’s what I call it when my wife’s desire to avoid change and not experience new things kills my hopes and dreams.  

She likes the condo. She has done a great job of setting it up so that it meets HER needs. She likes to play the keyboard – she has a keyboard set up in the spare bedroom. She likes to write – so she has a writing nook set up in the same room. She likes to ride horses, though she hasn’t done so once since we got married – so the closet contains a bunch of unused equestrian equipment. The list goes on and on. It is her house, where things are done her way. I pay half the mortgage, but apparently that doesn’t get me any rights. All of this makes me highly motivated to move somewhere else. Again, she lacks similar motivation because she has things set up exactly as she wants. She is fine waiting for a dream house. For me, a dream house is any place that isn’t the “Pit of Despair”.

I hate the condo because for me it is the land of “can’t”. I can’t keep my bicycle there, do woodworking, store my camping equipment or much of anything else that I own, can’t hang any of my collected or created artwork on the walls, et cetera. When I moved in my wife told me that she had the place set up exactly like she wanted and had no desire to change anything. And so barely any changes have been made in almost three years, except for when she wanted me to repaint the living room and put down new tile in the kitchen.

The condo is going to be a horrible place to have a kid. It is on the third floor and the stairs get slick in the wintertime. There is no space for anybody to sty with us, which will be important when her parents come to visit the baby. Now all I care about is moving out of the condo. I don’t care where we go, I just have to get out. At this point it represents everything I hate about being married, especially the fact that my needs are worthless. I have lived in a place that I can’t stand for nearly three years and my wife won’t consider moving to a place that isn’t 100% perfect. And she has the nerve to lecture me about how being married means sometimes doing things we don’t want to do!

This post has turned into much more of a rant than expected. I am obviously pretty pissed about this whole situation. Part of it is because we had a conversation about moving last night and basically she doesn’t care a bit about how I feel. She is paying lip service to moving but keeps coming up with excuses and reasons she doesn’t want to. I am trying to be reconciled to the idea of living the rest of my life in the condo, but it just crushes my spirit.

Soon I will try to write a more upbeat and optimistic post about why I really want to move to a farm and all of the awesome things I plan on doing there. I really set out to do that this morning but am overwhelmed by pessimism. Apologies to anyone who came to the blog for good cheer and encouragement this morning.