Sometimes I wonder what life will be like when it’s meshed with another person’s life. I have a pretty decent idea of what my life, my house, my schedule, and all that stuff would be like if I were to live by myself for the rest of forever. But add a man and it changes. Then once we get comfortable, or even before then, some kids are thrown into the equation. The only thing constant is change. But anyways, will he like how I decorate? Will he care? If he wants a perfect house with couches that match the drapes, he shouldn’t even ask me on the first date. That’s not how I roll. Eclectic and fantastic is the only way my house will be. We’ll have our own art on the walls. The chairs around the table will all be different. Not a single plate will match. Not because we’ll be poor (but if we are, I don’t care) but because I love it that way. And if a plate breaks, the set isn’t incomplete because we’ll run over to Salvation Army and get another non-matching plate. Oh love love love. I love my life. And I love the one with whom my life will mold completely and perfectly.