Daily writing prompt

Write about your dream home.

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I regularly tell people I live with seventy-five million people. In fact, our house is home to Mr Jones, myself, The Unicorn, The Boarder (girl same age as The Unicorn, aware of our lifestyle, but not part of it), FIL (in his own separate part of the house) two cats, a budgie, a lorikeet and about 15 chickens. Sometimes it feels like seventy-five million!

I go through phases of wishing for our own space. A place where we can be as naked as we like whenever we want, have sex wherever and with whoever we like whenever we like. A year or so ago, we even started planning to build our own place in the back part of our acreage. I was excited about the idea and the design we came up with. We planned a small house with a very open living area. The way our block and the neighbouring properties fit together meant that we would see trees whenever we looked out a window. I dreamed of new furniture, new kitchenware and a life of freedom.

Then we started doing the sums. It wasn’t that we couldn’t afford this project. The question was: should we spend this money on a house that we would not be living in for long chunks of time? We were planning to spend most of 2026 and likely 2027 travelling in one form or another. Long story short. We mothballed the project and I still live with seventy-five million people.

This phase of my life is strange. I feel a little like I am waiting for other people to make up their minds or get on with things. Between us, Mr Jones and I have three living elderly parents who are independent right now but won’t be sometime. Two of these are in severe denial about their location and lack of contingency planning. When the wheels fall of that bus it will be dramatic and cause chaos for a lot of people. But how and when that will happen is unknown.

We also have a child who hasn’t quite flown the nest yet. I have career that I am not done with, but a husband who is done with work and is waiting around for someone to body double him. I am surrounded by people who expect something of me, but there are no clear plans or timelines in place. I think often about what I want the next forty years of my life to be like. Where will I live? What are the things that are important to me? What goals does this later part of my life have? So many questions to ponder.

One thing I do know is that I won’t be living in the middle of a city. Or a retirement village. I don’t want to be able to hear my neighbours arguing, and I don’t want them to spend their days watching me walk around my house naked.

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