To begin with being snowed in while excitedly house hunting is a difficult combination of factors. More specifically, finding a listing that looks like it could be THE house (but who are we kidding, your mind has already convinced you that it most definitely is and it hardly matters that you haven’t seen the thing in person) while being stranded house sitting in your friend’s recently purchased beautiful abode that you admire (and possibly covet) everything about is nearly crazy making!
I say nearly, but that’s only a lingering wisp of optimism. The general population is lucky to be separated from me. Except for my partner (who, I’m very fortunate to say, still loves me), two cats, and a dog most people are safe from my madness. Sans those few unlucky souls whom even a foot and a half of snow and no phone could not be kept safe from my emails.
Do you know the feeling when you’ve decided you need to move on from a job, but you have to keep working there for awhile before you can leave and suddenly, even if it really isn’t that bad, because you’ve set your mind on this change IT BECOMES UNBEARABLE? I’ve discovered this feeling can also be present when you’ve decided to move. I’m trying to enjoy the excitement, but all I seem to be doing is losing my marbles.
So far I don’t think I’ve truly related the madness I’m experiencing. The issue began when I found a listing for a house that was perfect. Not actually perfect, anyone involved in trying to buy a house will know there are always compromises, but this one the pros definitely outweigh the cons AND it might actually be doable price-wise. What more could a person ask for from first impressions?
This is where being stuck in someone else’s home, my personality, and the general excitement of the endeavour became a manic episode. My partner and I set up what meetings we could, but they aren’t until the end of the week and… there is nothing else I can do.
You just don’t understand how much I want to paint a wall right now. I NEED to paint a wall. My wall. With a colour I have chosen. If I were let loose in an area with paint swatches it would be a tornado of colour within which I would be sitting at its centre drooling (literally) over lavender, moss green, and burgundy with a wild look in my eye.
No one would want to come near me as I babble about the goat pen I have already planned from Google satellite view, or how I know exactly where to stack the firewood, or where the hedgerows and apple trees will go, or where I plan to hang the pots and pans.
I realise to a certain extent these feelings and this planning is normal, but I’ve only seen thirty-seven pictures of the place (possibly a hundred times) and a short description. I tell myself to get too excited now could lead to only a more severe disappointment later. Alas, my lack of other things to do only leaves more room to obsess so with a manic glint in my eye I research the price of cord wood in my area and whether it is sustainably harvested.
By the end of the night I am exhausted and emotionally spent, trying to close my eyes and banish thoughts of what fabric I will want to make napkins out of, only to wake up the next morning and start all over again.
It is today’s misfortune that my email contacts have run dry and I am now desperately blogging to relieve my excitement. My apologies to you all.
This has been a day in the life of the homestead dreamer.