For the last few years, I've been saving my money to buy some sort of living space receptacle. I wish I was talking about a sprawling ranch in Central California, but I'm more so referring to a 1+ bedroom condo in Glendale.
Recently, I've been thinking more and more about the purchase of a home and the truth is, it's freaking me out. Owning something that big—and agreeing to pay for it over the next 30 years—seems like such a huge, adult responsibility.
And really, am I an adult yet?
It seems so much easier to just live in my little $950/month apartment for the rest of my life. Then I never have to worry about making that big payment—or worse—not being able to make that big payment. I could just continue skating along, like a wealthy college student. Stress-free. Not tied down.
But then I start to think about other risks I've taken...other leaps into responsible, adult waters, and the truth is, they've paid off brilliantly. Sure, they were scary, but they enabled me to grow. Grow up, even.
Maybe buying a home will push me that extra step into real adulthood. And maybe I'll like the view from there. Maybe I'll even have a nice view from my new condo...