I had a great life.
I moved to Sydney at the ripe old age of nineteen into an apartment on the beach. I spent a small fortune setting it up, just for me. I loved it, loved the freedom and the proximity to the beach and the fact I was finally beginning my life on my own terms.
After nearly two years of living there and working in the city I moved nearly three hours north closer to family after cocobeans birth sent me into a breakdown and I needed my family more than ever. I found a brand new apartment opposite the marina and settled in with a roomate who turned out to be a feral whore — but that’s another blog.
Life just wasn’t working out as I had planned. Working and paying rent and having not even the funds to go out for a few drinks let alone save a deposit for my own home. I was stuck in some kind of rut and beginning to slide back into that dark hole I had only just climbed out of…
I made the decision about a year ago to swallow my pride and let my parents help me out in order to save to fund my dream. It’s not easy to be a happily single girl saving for a home — two wages are really required.
So it’s been a year and one would assume that I would have quite a substantial next egg saves awaiting the choosing of a mortgage and a house …
well, it’s not the case. If anything I am now more in debt then I was a year ago.
I have now become a shopaholic. My hair and nails are done once a month, my car runs on premium and my wardrobe boasts a new addition weekly, at the worst.
I didn’t plan on becoming this way. I have always loved things and I have always been high maintenance but this whole disposable income thing is new to me…
I think I might continue it for a while longer, because,
well,
this witchery skirt is waaaay cute.
Shopping&holidays&pampering&new things make me happy.
I honestly think I just deserve to be happy, at least, for a little while.
I can always ‘grow up’ tomorrow.
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