A Woman’s Home is Her Castle

Pride of ownership.

We all have it when we own our own home, whether on our own or with our partner.
There is just something about knowing you can paint your walls bright fuscia with little green squiggles for accents on a whim and there is absolutely no one you have to ask for permission. Your friends may think you’ve lost it … but they can’t stop you.

And then there are the tools you get to play with.

Personally, I’ve always been pretty handy with the tools, too. I’m not really sure where I picked that up from (sorry dad) except I probably do have to give a few props to my grade 8 Industrial Ed. Teacher, Mr. Adams, for turning me on to power tools!

I’ve painted, I’ve tiled, I’ve hung doors, I’ve wired new fixtures, I’ve hung everything known to man and have even taken care of the odd small plumbing job … although I have to admit I draw the line if it goes anything much beyond unjamming the garburator or replacing various toilet parts. And my cordless screwdriver … well, let’s just say it’s pretty much my constant companion.

The thing is, I learned very early not to be afraid of these tasks that are often considered a man’s domain. I actually kind of enjoy it … great sense of accomplishment when you step back after grouting that tile you’ve laid or turn on that light for the first time after installing that new dimmer switch.

I can remember my own granny thinking it strange that I played soccer as a young girl … she grew up in a very different era in Brazil when such things weren’t considered ‘ladylike.’ I wonder what she’d think today if she saw me hanging new doors and balancing precariously off the ladder while I attached window boxes on second storey windows. I bet she’s smiling.

It all comes back to that pride of ownership. There’s nothing like it when you own your own home, regardless of whether it’s a bachelor pad downtown or a family compound out in the burbs, and being able to put your hallmark on it.

It’s yours … and there’s no feeling like it.