Looks like we’re saying goodbye to our apartment.
With the recent financial situation, hubby and I decided to stay at my parents’ house for the meantime. Less utilities to pay, plus at least we don’t have to bring Zee over there and fetch her at night everyday.
I asked hubby whether he felt I imposed on him the decision to stay with my parents (as opposed to his parents’ house in Novaliches). He said no, though he felt I was still too attached to our house in Pasig even after more than a year of being “separated” from them.
Can’t blame my hubby for feeling that way… because it’s true. 29 years of memories in that house that I never left (except when I got married) is like an anchor for me. In between those years, the only time I got out of that house was when I went to school, when I had to take care of extra-curricular stuff, and when I had to go to work. Not even my siblings had the opportunity to fly from the nest; when my sister was entering college, she suggested staying in a dormitory. My mother wouldn’t allow it, she was scared that when my sister experiences an asthma attack no one would be there to take her to the nearby hospital. Since then, the rest of us never had a chance to live on our own during our younger days. Heck, even some of my clothes and some of our wedding gifts were neatly stored there (until Ondoy came).
I never experienced being out of the house for so long. And when that time came, it actually made me cry.
While staying at my parents’ house has its benefits, this would also mean less privacy and less space for us to maneuver. Well, at least we could use the area of our former store as stockroom… and as hubby’s recreation room.
We still have about a month to fix our stuff and move it to the house.
Ah, apartment. You have been so kind. Thank you.
And #3 Rissa St., welcome me back.