(no subject)
I'm not sure if I want to scream, destroy something, cry, throw up, or all four. I haven't felt like this sense I first started processing Nana's death, and I think that's a factor in this. I don't know why the house closing at the end of the month bothers me so much. I guess because even though it brings a finality to this situation, it raises more questions than it answers. I don't need more questions right now. Mom's like "don't even think about it. We've already arranged for you to be able to stay there through December." But what about after that? I either need to find an apartment or pick a house plan and get the site prep and foundation started. I just don't even know what to think, feel, or do anymore.
*Edit*
Shortly after typing this yesterday, I called Uncle Tommy to see if I could borrow the truck to ride around the property and look for a house site. Since his catheter was changed last night, I was suprised when he was up and rearing to go by the time I got out there. It was really nice just getting in the truck and riding around the fields a bit. I've tentatively picked out a spot, although it will probably take a couple of months to get it properly cleared. I'm stil not entirely sure if I want to go ahead and try to build now, or if I want to go ahead and wait until the degree is done. Either way will tax my sanity.
Building requires site prep, deed surveying, going through the planning commission, site surveying, more site prep, foundation/ septic/ and well creation, code checks, and then the whole mess of physically building the house. The last part doesn't bother me so much as the first mess. But, once it's in the dry and insulated, it's roughly liveable. In short, it's mine. No one, save for the county, can tell me to leave, and they can only if I don't pay taxes. Renting a place means being put in whimsy's way again, albeit a contracted whimsy.
I stayed out in Vancleave longer than I should have last night. After figuring out the location, we rode around looking at the property like we used to when I was younger. I miss throwing bales to the cows (good lord I couldn't even think about it now), tossing salt blocks for them, and distributing cubes or feed. I miss watching the corn pop up, that tranquil rustle of hay, and that sweet smell when it's cut. I even miss the smell of silage, as odd as that is. I miss the growl of an old Massey firing up and the productive scent of diesel fumes. I miss the bayying of cows in the evening, and bob whites whistling to each other. I miss the country.
Yes, I will miss being able to walk to the beach on a whim. I will miss being in between school campuses and it only taking 45 minutes to get to either. I will miss well stocked grocery stores that require only a 10 or 15 minute drive. But, I think the peace will be good. Perhaps being able to watch the grass grow without worrying about a neighbor getting pissed will be beneficial. Now I just need to figure out if whether to do it now, or in a couple of years.
*Edit*
Shortly after typing this yesterday, I called Uncle Tommy to see if I could borrow the truck to ride around the property and look for a house site. Since his catheter was changed last night, I was suprised when he was up and rearing to go by the time I got out there. It was really nice just getting in the truck and riding around the fields a bit. I've tentatively picked out a spot, although it will probably take a couple of months to get it properly cleared. I'm stil not entirely sure if I want to go ahead and try to build now, or if I want to go ahead and wait until the degree is done. Either way will tax my sanity.
Building requires site prep, deed surveying, going through the planning commission, site surveying, more site prep, foundation/ septic/ and well creation, code checks, and then the whole mess of physically building the house. The last part doesn't bother me so much as the first mess. But, once it's in the dry and insulated, it's roughly liveable. In short, it's mine. No one, save for the county, can tell me to leave, and they can only if I don't pay taxes. Renting a place means being put in whimsy's way again, albeit a contracted whimsy.
I stayed out in Vancleave longer than I should have last night. After figuring out the location, we rode around looking at the property like we used to when I was younger. I miss throwing bales to the cows (good lord I couldn't even think about it now), tossing salt blocks for them, and distributing cubes or feed. I miss watching the corn pop up, that tranquil rustle of hay, and that sweet smell when it's cut. I even miss the smell of silage, as odd as that is. I miss the growl of an old Massey firing up and the productive scent of diesel fumes. I miss the bayying of cows in the evening, and bob whites whistling to each other. I miss the country.
Yes, I will miss being able to walk to the beach on a whim. I will miss being in between school campuses and it only taking 45 minutes to get to either. I will miss well stocked grocery stores that require only a 10 or 15 minute drive. But, I think the peace will be good. Perhaps being able to watch the grass grow without worrying about a neighbor getting pissed will be beneficial. Now I just need to figure out if whether to do it now, or in a couple of years.