Reverse Culture Shock

So we bought our first ever house. It is three times the size — literally — as our flat in London (and yet, it is about 25% cheaper).

The kids love the yard. I love actually having space to put our things. During each move in London, we would become more and more perplexed as we realized that our clothes and kitchenwares would have to be stashed in nooks and crannies of closets, under sinks and on top of the refrigerator, because there generally wasn’t enough room in the logical places for clothes and kitchenwares.

But there are a whole new set of worries. There is a jungle of weeds that someone needs to mow (that someone will have to be a hired person for the moment, until we get used to lawn work). And there are all sorts of strange sounds coming from the garage, which could be healthy house noises, or perhaps something more sinister (a dying boiler? Trapped rodents? A poltergeist?).

As someone who grew up in an apartment, all this space is daunting. But I’m not complaining. After living in a two story house with a yard, I will find it hard to go back to a two bedroom flat.