22 Days To Go
We're finally moving out. Can't wait. Yet, while I eagerly anticipate having a place I can call my own, a place in which I can do as I want, when I want, how I want, I am keenly aware that the enthusiasm is not keenly shared by all in this house.
In a country where apartment living is really the norm, and there's hardly enough room for more than one family per apartment, it's amazing how culture, which expects sons to remain in the household even after marriage, has outlasted the practicality of such living arrangements.
My in-laws own a huge house. There is enough space for us here, so in this regard, I am luckier than most by far. Yet I reckon if they lived in an apartment, my mother-in-law would still want us staying with them. Nevermind that a single room is hardly enough to grow another family in (and people ask why we still haven't started one).
Culture defies all logic sometimes.
Nevertheless, logic has prevailed. Again, methinks. 'Cos we're finally moving out. Either that or the evil-mind-controling daughter-in-law is secretly to be blamed. How cliched. We could make a movie out of this. Truth be told, the decision to move out was my husband's (glad as I may be about it). I'm a firm believer of letting the man lead the household, make the decisions, all that.
Culture defies all logic.
22 more days to go.