One of the things that has always concerned me is the stress of building our home and what it may do to our relationship. When we bought our land 5 years ago, I immediately started looking at house plans. I envisioned what our home would look like; what the view would be from each of the rooms; how we'll heat it ; cool it and every other aspect of it. The house was taking on a life of its own for me. And I loved every minute of it. My only frustration was that it was taking too long.
But an anxiety to me was the question -- would Les step up to the plate when the time came to start building? We had this very discussion tonight on the phone. He's very reluctant to take this on. And I'm wondering if I will have to lead this charge as well. It seems that I have to lead everything. I want so badly for this to be a partnership, but he's just so non-committal.
On a brighter note, I have a good part of 444 settled in. This is a quaint, old house. It was built in 1923. The floors creek with every step. The doors are warped & need a heavy hand to close & lock. The sash windows in the living & dining rooms are old, single pane & painted shut. But it's so full of character. I feel more at home and more comfortable here than I ever did in the crusty apartment in Newbury Park.
As much as I like this place, it pales in comparison to our strawbale home. I should know... I've lived in that house in my head for 5 years already. It's going to be a great house. And I will do whatever I have to do to get it done. I almost feel like my life depends on it. The stress and hopelessness of my day to day existence is exhausting. I'm always pressed for time & I will never be able to retire. This house will be my one and only refuge from all of this. I probably won't mind working into my 80's as long as I can see that view and hear the wind in the trees and count those stars.
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