Life in the burbs

I may have mentioned it, I don’t know… a hundred times. We looked hard, every Sunday (ok you got me, not EVERY Sunday.. but many Sundays. Even the ones with a hangover) at houses from Milnerton to Tokai. We looked at flats in Green Point and even  at a 4-storey ridiculous tumble-down house (type thing) in BoKaap. We weren’t fussy. But as time passed, our expectations, our desires, our needs for this first home of ours grew.

And then we found it. Of course I didn’t know it was it. I walked in and was sure it wasn’t it. I’m not exactly known for being decisive. But, it was. A house in a little pocket that calls itself Chelsea Village (no, not the one in Wynberg). Not three, but four bedrooms of it and a tennis court sized garden. It’s newly renovated, it has two ovens, it has the best shower-head in the world. It has a laundry room plus a work-from-home/art studio/domestic quarters (oh the possibilities).

Sold. Our maybe it should say bought. By us. Aren't I proud!
Sold. Or maybe it should say bought. By us. Aren’t I proud!

It’s majority empty. We are only two people after all. And it’s in the burbs. Yes, aaaaalllll the way in the burbs. You know, 15 minutes away.

We’ve been here for 3 months today. I can’t believe it either. Mostly because – that means we haven’t actually gone out for a NICE meal in over three months. Because, shit! Buying a house will leave you broke!! But the best part of my day, while yes there’s traffic, is getting home. Its quiet. It has cool tiles. It has space.

I was attached to the convenience of Green Point. But its funny how easily we adjust and accept our surroundings. How we move on. We look back with fondness to the parts we choose to remember of something in our past. But generally, we grow accustomed to our little place in the world. As if we’ve always been here. Ok, so I can’t take a taxi somewhere without taking out a personal loan, but with Constantia on our border with wine farms galore and well, who knew how much a garden needed to be watered and mowed – going out seems to be a thing of the past. In fact, as much as I cringed at the thought in the past – staying in on weekends has become a new favourite thing to do. (and I’m not just making excuses now for the lack of money. It really is so nice).

Am I getting old? (is now a good time to remind you, and myself I turn 32 in 4 months! And we thought the 3-0h was bad). Is this growing up? Has the burbs changed me, or have I found a place I feel comfortable in? (Am I getting too deep?)

I know what you’re thinking, picket white fence (it’s green actually), 4 bedroomed house… there must be something I’m not saying. Well, maybe there is. But we just haven’t decided what type of dog to get yet!

backroads in Constantia
So much open space in the burbs

One thought on “Life in the burbs

  1. I hear you. 30-and-a-bit, moved to the deep South (Noordhoek) a while ago with lovely partner to settle into house with garage and scullery and other grown up things. Most weekends we garden, cook, build cupboards..and I love it. But sometimes I feel like I should still be living like a young adult, after work drinks, live music til late etc, while I still can! I hope you enjoy every minute of your happy home.

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