Bedlam Farm Journal is my morning dose of humanity, and I share with you this morning Jon's writing on the concept of fear, especially as it pertains to current events.
My new house is sixteen days away. I find that my real estate trauma this past summer has instilled in me a fear of real estate. (Domatophobia? Oikophobia? Eicophobia? Orthophobia?) I want this transaction to go well, to be manageable, to not reduce me to sobbing. I want this to be the last house I buy in my life. I want the transaction and the next year of settling into the house to be devoid of nasty surprises (like Jaci having to call the furnace man yesterday and say, "The house is toasty warm and cozy. What's wrong?") I want no financial surprises, and I want to take my time deciding how to transform this house into a bricks-and-mortar reflection of me. (If you haven't seen the pics and would like to, send me an e-mail and I'll share the link with you.)
Drawing on Jon's morning words, the closing on the 9th and the next year should be just a passage through which I walk to attain the home-for-the-rest-of-my-life.
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