My landlords have been assholes again lately, so this week I started looking around for apartments. While searching, I inadvertently found a cheap, cheap, cheap house less than a mile up the street from me. It's less a house than a tiny barn, or maybe let's call it a bungalow, and it's small and about a thousand years old, but it's cute and manageable and all of the important things have been completely updated and it doesn't come with misogynist landlords. I took my sister and BIL to look at it with me, and they're helping me think through whether or not it could be a good decision to try to buy it. (Very tempting to write "whether or not it's the right decision," but I don't really believe in that line of thinking. Few things are right or wrong; you just make a decision and make it work.) A friend who is smart about house-type-stuff is coming up to visit this weekend to look at the house with me. I have no idea what the next few weeks will hold.
Since finding the house and thinking through all the possibilities, I've been overwhelmed with personal insecurities and the fear of the unknown. I've been thinking about how many places I've lived in the past ten years (9), and I feel exhausted and worried and a bit lonely. I don't think this is really any kind of home buyer cold feet whatever. I feel worried that I'll move in and really be all alone. I live alone now and really do love having time and space to myself. I just don't want to be forgotten or have people not follow me down the street and around the corner. Maybe this is the dying alone and having the cat eat your body thing. I don't know.
It should be exciting to think about buying a house, and to a degree it is. It will probably seem more real when I talk with the mortgage peeps and look at the house a second time. I guess I hope - I hope I can make the space my own and feel really comfortable there. And it's something about all the moving, all the environments. It feels fragile. Something about roots. It's hard to move that much and feel continuity, like there are common threads running through the story.
Then there's this: we've had the hottest, rainiest summer ever and I can't wait for sweatshirt weather. I can't wait for cool evenings and crisp mornings.