Rolling Stone No More

A rolling stone gathers no moss - Publilius Syrus (~100 BC)

I'm buying a house this summer. I've spent the last 10 years gallivanting from state to state, taking whatever journalism-related jobs piqued my interest and now, I want roots. I have a job that I really enjoy and nothing shows more commitment to an employer than buying real estate. In essence, I’m saying that I like my magazine enough to commit to its success for at least the next five to seven years. It’s satisfying to feel that secure, but it’s also downright scary.

As the door to homeownership opens, I feel like another is officially closing. From now on, it’s going to take a lot more effort if I decide to change jobs. The days of giving two weeks’ notice and hitting the road for a new city are over. That's part of what it means to be young, right? Footloose and fancy free? Does that mean, at age 31, I'm officially *gulp* old? Having roots means that I’ll be one of those people who thinks more about property taxes than parties. I know my debt-to-income ratio. I’ve purchased wall sconces without worrying if hanging them will put my damage deposit in jeopardy. I’m browsing the Sunday sales circulars for the best prices on lawnmowers. There is no turning back.