Marrying me cost my husband space. Granted he got out of an abysmal man cave apartment on the first floor behind the mail boxes. It was dark, dingy, small and he had to keep the drapes and blinds closed all the time because of passers by. Never mind that there was one boxed lasagne (from his mother) in the freezer, individually wrapped string cheese in the frig with wrappers strewn between the frig and computer (he built one of the first home-made dual-brained computers with double monitors) and remnants of one 72 oz. Big Gulp Dr. Pepper.
I gained him space, light, cleanliness, no more clean pile/dirty pile laundry and healthy, hearty home-cooked meals.
He left me three weeks after we met, after having been dot-bombed. He rented the minimum three linear feet of space in an ABF freight truck and moved home for two weeks when he came back with a new job. We married after 16 months and a year later moved to Texas. Twelve linear feet on ABF frieght. He says I cost him nine linear feet.
Initially I brought our kitchen, office and bedroom into our home. Finally we got a real dining room, bedroom, and living room to call our own. Last time I believe it was 15 linear feet. Now, with a super futon for the guest room and more framed art it’ll probably take the entire truck. I think it’s 28 feet. Don’t know if we can fill it but we’ll try, that way we’ll be the only stop. After all, time is money, too. No, I won’t put the dog in there to fill it up. She has her 4″ orthopedic bed in the back of my SUV.
We’ve moved up in the world, literally and so far have had many nice views, close commutes, good neighbors and we’ve made some friends along the way. Family remains far afield but we visit when we can.
Our next step should include light, views, space as well as the basic necessities. That always includes a place for family and friends to visit. Cheers, Dee