The Fear of Now; The Fear of New

We're home from our wonderful week at the beach. I loved every moment of the visit. The trip home was twelve-and-a-half hours of uneventful. Ridley didn't throw up once. Yea, Dramamine. Yea, Sea Bands.

Now I'm faced with new. This week I close on the house. USAA called me Friday to say the loan was finalized. I've got to call the owner's nephew, Ed, and ask who all I need to call to set up accounts.

This is the second time I have bought a house without the benefit of realtor. The first time was my 1950s mid-town charmer in Tucson that I bought from my friends Eileen and Jacki. I could go walk through the house when I needed to. I could call or e-mail them to find out what I needed to know.

This time I'm buying from a stranger that I'm apprehensive about bothering. I've been in the house four times, I think. I've spent no more than an hour in the house. And now I think I'll live there the rest of my life‽

It's scary as hell! A good realtor flattens all the speedbumps for you. I've got to figure everything out all by myself. I repeat: it's scary as hell.

What was I thinking? Why didn't I just get a one-bedroom apartment? Oh, right. I hate renting. I hate apartments.

I'm filled with fear and apprehension and unknowingness and the future spread out before me like a whiteboard that someone inadvertently marked with a permanent marker and couldn't get completely clean.

So today, on my first back-in-Youngstown post of 2009 (eek! 2009‽ How did that happen‽), I've gotten rid of the dots that have decorated this blog since its inception in 2006. (eek! I've been blogging for two-and-a-half years‽ How did that happen‽)

This year is about starting fresh and clean and seeing where things go.

Welcome to my new life. Come along with me while I trust my gut instinct.