We moved house last year, from a flat in central London to a house in zone 3. We moved for all the usual reasons - couldn't afford any more space where we were, schools were terrible and going private wasn't an option. DH actually wanted to move out to Salisbury to be nearer MIL, I wanted to move to South London as all my friends live there. We compromised on this house as I really couldn't face the commute from Salisbury. On paper it's great: good transport links, good local schools, nice neighbours.
But it's a modern box with a garden. DH wanted the garden for DS, but if we have another summer like the last one it won't amount to much. The garden feels like a complete millstone round my neck - I'm hardly here so won't get any benefit out of it, I don't have time to do anything with it and I constantly feel guilty because the other houses in the street have lovely gardens. And the house's low ceilings feel really oppressive coming from our flat in a Victorian conversion.
I was neutral about the house when we first moved in and thought it would grow on me, but the reverse seems to be happening. I really don't like coming home to it. DH and DS like it. I also don't like the longer commute to a dreary suburb, and I really miss our old area.
Rereading this it sounds like the definition of a first world problem! I know I'm lucky to have a roof over my head. But AIBU to be daydreaming about moving back to town once DS is at secondary school?