I’m Here…I’m Just…Preoccupied

If you had a lifelong dream staring you in the face – what would you do?

I jumped at it, but it doesn’t mean I’ll necessarily get it.

Check out Obsession over on The Deadly Nightshade for details, but basically, I’ve wanted to live in an old house all of my life. I love the history, the architectural details, the memories of lives past stored in the wood, stone and glass.

In a follow-up a few days later, I posted Sequel to Obsession because I actually found the house, met Sherry and her husband, and got to see the inside of the house. In some ways, especially now, as I fight off yet another stress-induced headache, I wish she had dismissed me out of turn. But instead, she gave me hope, and hope can be a dangerous thing.

Wanting to live in an old house, and having the money to put down on said house, are two very different things. No down, two years post bankruptcy, and underwater on our mortgage (we have never been late, but we didn’t re-affirm the debt in the bankruptcy, so it hasn’t been showing as any kind of good credit on our credit report.)

The truth be told, we have been entirely focused on getting out of debt. The student loan was paid off first, since that was not discharged in the bankruptcy. After that we upped the payments on the cars, which were also not re-affirmed at the time of the bankruptcy because I wasn’t sure we would be able to keep them. We are now just three months away from completely paying them off.

I outlined our situation to Sherry, as clearly and concisely as possible, and asked her if she would consider a Lease Option or Rent-to-Own situation. She was reserved at first, but as we talked, she seemed to show more and more willingness to consider it. Nearly a week has passed, and there is still at least one more to go before they will be done with the improvements (painting and various other fix-it jobs). After that is a assessment and meeting with the realtor…and then she will be back in touch.

As I said, hope is a dangerous thing. I wake in the morning and run down a mental checklist of the rooms.

  • What should go where?
  • If we start moving stuff, what should go in first?
  • Should we lay down some gravel for a simple driveway in the back so we don’t get stuck in the mud?
  • Can we put in a small temporary chain link fence around the back deck for the dogs to have a small outside run?
  • What do we do about the chickens?
  • Should I put my sewing machine in the spare bedroom?
  • Where should the aquarium go? And the treadmill? Should I make the utility/pantry room also a space for Emily crafts?
  • We have a plant order coming from Gurney’s – do I cancel it, plant it here, or put it in pots to transport to the new house?

And all of this, ALL of this, is dependent on getting the answer we want. Which I have no idea if we will or not.

This has led to nearly daily headaches and a complete avoidance of all things writing-related.

I tried to explain to Dave, and several others, how it feels. Imagine having a dream, a desperate wanting all of your life, and having it close, so close you can taste it. That’s how it is with me. Is the house everything I ever dreamed of?

No, no it isn’t. But it’s closer than I’ve ever come.

It will be 120 years old. It has several city lots attached to it with several more coming available for next to nothing. The neighborhood is no longer the demilitarized zone it once was. Plenty of rehabbers working on it to improve things. And it comes at a point in my life when I have realized something very important – I’m halfway there to kicking the bucket and I really need to make the next 42 years count. I need to make every minute of them count – and I want to spend them in this house…

So…I’m here…I’m just…preoccupied.

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