So first off, my fabulous crit partner Susan Bischoff is now represented by Jane Dystel. She’s yet another of us indies who’s skipped over the query process and got picked by one of the best. Let’s have a round of applause! WOOT! I’d have mentioned it yesterday but I was taking a VERY SERIOUSLY NEEDED mental health day.
Moving on. One of my favorite movie quotes (and Susan just mentioned this this other day, which reminded me) is from You’ve Got Mail when Birdie tells Kathleen that closing the store was the brave thing to do because, “You’re daring to imagine you can have a different life.” (or something to that effect. I’m still caffeinating, so I don’t remember exactly).
That line has always stuck with me and pops up at random times when I’m preparing to make a big change, take a risk. Starting a new job. Stepping out into the uncharted waters of indie publishing. Signing with my own agent. And now, deciding what house to buy. Given everything that’s going on, that’s where my brain has been for the last few weeks.
The home inspection is this morning. We had freakish, torrential rains yesterday (nearly 5 inches) and several tornadoes, so I’ve been trying to make a deal with God that if we aren’t supposed to get this house, the basement will be seriously compromised. Or something equally dealbreaking will come up in the home inspection. I’m all about doing the research and getting inspections and appraisals. Buying a house is a big deal, an investment in more than just money, so it’s not something I take lightly.
This is the second house we’ve fallen in love with–and really, let’s be honest, it’s the land we fell in love with. That 14 acres with a lake. We imagine a very different kind of life at this place. One where there’s a lot more upkeep on the land and property, but that will be so worth it to not have neighbors right on top, to have space to entertain and play and raise a family in an area where the kids could play in the yard without fear somebody’s gonna come grab them and go. That’s very different from where we are now.
The house itself. Well, it has some issues. It is 50 years old and on the exterior it has no stylistic rhyme or reason particularly. It’s a big L (the result of a poorly planned addition) with the front door wedged almost smack in the middle of the right angle. There are lots of things to love about it–great kitchen, two fireplaces, fabulous views. I see a TON of potential in this house. But there are concerns from my parental units that this might not be a good investment and we won’t be able to get out what we put into it. My dad’s being rational about it, making sure we have lots of things checked on. My mother has taken a more hysterical approach, trying to convince me that buying this house would be the worst mistake of my life and that it’s horrible and blah blah blah. If I had an addictive personality, this week would have turned me into an alcoholic.
This emotional roller coaster has left me totally shaken in my convictions (not an easy thing to do) and made me wonder if we really ARE supposed to buy THIS house. There’s no real fun left in the process now. It’s all about reigniting my ulcers, worrying about 8 million potential problems and second guessing myself. I am not accustomed to second guessing myself. I’m a very decisive, independent person, and I resent the heck out of the fact that my mother’s unceasing anxiety and hysteria over this problem has gotten under my skin and made ME anxious. So yeah, we’re back to my wanting a great, big flashing neon sign from God that this is a mistake. Like a flooded basement or mucked up septic system. Or for the appraisal to come back way under what they’re asking (which is also a possibility…the tax assessor’s office hasn’t updated it since the house was built 50 years ago and hasn’t taken into account the addition or renovations).
There’s another house we wanted to look at before that was under contract. I was looking last night and it’s apparently back on the market. Hubs and I were saying that if this one doesn’t work out, then we should go look at that one. It’s also out in the county a bit, in a different area, in a subdivision with large, generally treeless lots. Already fenced, but nice, newer house (2003 instead of 1961) in brick that would, I know, make my parents much happier. We could plant trees and paint and be done with it. And that too, means for a different life than the one we have now.
So I have no idea what will happen or what decisions will ultimately be made. I just know that I need for it to be decided soon, so that I can go back to being a productive member of society with a functional, focusable brain.
I love that quote!
Good luck with the whole house thing!
For what it’s worth this is what I do when I have so many other people’s opinions screaming in my head that I can’t hear my own thoughts…I go somewhere quiet, sit, clear my mind and close my eyes (like I would in a yoga class) and I ask the question out loud asking God or what higher power you believe in for direction. Many times I get the answer (a bone deep feeling that this is the right answer). Most times the answer has always been there but I couldn’t hear it because of everyone else who got in my head.
I hope this helps. Big decisions are frightening especially when others create doubts in your mind. Good luck.
I would be crazy about all of this, too. Which is actually one reason we built our house instead of buying. That has it’s own headaches, but it mostly went smoothly.
Good luck Kait – hope it works out soon one way or the other. We went through this a little last summer with a house on a river, before ultimately deciding to pull out (the house was on a *slant*. Which we ignored for a while as we went through the whole “house on a river!” dream). 14 acres on a lake just sounds lovely…
Sometimes when you’ve done your 50% of what’s required then it’s time to let go and let the other 50% happen (more often than not, in it’s own time too) A bit like a chess game, once you’ve made your move, you can’t do anything else until the other player does.
If all this cosmic stuff doesn’t work, try writing a letter bomb to your mother … wonderful things they are for stress relief!!!