I have finally find a house to move into, finally a place whose walls I can drill and paint the way I want, whose floor I can populate any way I please. I can put clocks where I wish, and a table where I desire, and the curtains will be of my coice. all Mine Mine Mine

Up till now, life had been a a parade of hotels, and pseudo-hotels. Grew up with parents, where mom ruled. Then a hostel - which was the nearest to freedom I ever had, and of course I made the most of it... but studentship is a poverty-ridden part of life that lacks choices. Then came 'paying-guest'dom, all furnished and fine. Then marriage, where MIL ruled. Then a serviced apartment, and before I knew it, 27 years were gone.

Now, finally, my time will come.

But there's one small hitch - my husband.
All of a sudden he has discovered an interest in house layout and interior design. After 30 dormant years where his care was limited only to keeping dust away, he now has ambitions to choose cupboards and decide which direction the bed will face. He has developed opinions on colours that our couch can have, and what size a mirror should be. What's worse, each and every thing he thinks is in direct opposition to mine.

In short, setting up the house is not looking half as attractive as I had day-dreamed it to be. Maybe we should divide the house into two fiefdoms. Maybe we should toss and decide who gets to be dictator. Maybe I should threaten him and usurp the power.

Or maybe, just maybe, God will be kind and let me win a lottery so that I can get a new house and do it up entirely my way.
Amen