For a guy in his 20s, adult moves include but are not limited to establishing a family, changing career path, going to law school, buying a car, giving up the city, or getting a mortgage. I’m doing the last.
One has to do an adult move at some point in his life because it is but normal doing so. Although the ‘normal’ here may be subject to some degree of disagreement among readers, to a certain degree, we all have an idea what normal is. And although it might be interesting to write a post on what constitutes normal, it is not the object of this post. Normal is that realm of security some of us would someday want to settle in.
And I cannot anymore pretend I am not one of the ‘some.’
A home loan means making sure that I must not default on my monthly payment, ever. It means I will have to work harder because I need to pay my monthly rent while paying my monthly amortization for the next two years until the turnover of the unit in 2016. It means I will have to postpone the purchase of that nice-fitting Zara coat I was meaning to buy for a friend’s wedding this weekend. It means moving some part of my savings to that other account that is solely for the monthly payment of my loan for cover if, God forbids, I run short of cash. It means cutting on my weekend eat-outs. It means not buying anything impulsively, bringing with me a list whenever I do my grocery. It means planning my vacations well and doing away with some, having, at most, one in a year.
Honestly, it’s a decision I made because I went tired of my sister’s constant goading to find a place for myself and my conscience telling me that I will not stay a marauding nomad for the rest of my life.
Perhaps, the normal has gone too tempting to resist as nothing can be more normal than finding that place one can call his.
It’s a bit scary, though. That idea of being tied to a place by a mortgage, at least for the next ten years or so scares me.
But of course, I got to do an adult move.