I used to think that happiness would fall in my lap in some kind of expected order. In my mind I would be truly happy when I could pull up to my own house, have a large rock (of some exotic kind as I am over traditional wedding diamonds right now) on my left ring finger and open the door to my mini clone children and perfect spouse. The closer I get to seeing those realities the more misguided I feel for thinking that happiness has a formula. To be perfectly honest I have a real grown up job now and I can both afford and qualify for a mortgage. But I don't want it. Not yet. I like my apartment, I like being on my own and doing things at my pace and on my own schedule. I guess I just realized that even with out the white picket fence and two point five children I am living the American dream. I am making a way for my self and enjoying every moment of it. For me the journey to my ever afters is proving to be quite wonderful.