I had hoped by now that I could show you a picture of the new and improved dream house...

Not yet.

My house sale is moving right along...I am spending lots of money fixing this house up to be perfect for its new family. So, where is my dream house?

I actually may have found it. I am almost afraid to think about it. It meets almost all of my criteria; its big enough, great location, great yard, great house. But its Expensive. Right at the top of my budget. It does has everything, or at least has the potential to have everything I need...I could eventually replace things and make it "mine"(I have discovered that I am a surface snob--floors, counter tops--all very important to me. Who'd have thought?).

Still, it is a huge, huge step for me. Talking to accountants, mortgage brokers, bankers...all stuff I have never had to do and never wanted to do. Why is it that no matter what we are capable of we still, on some level, want someone else to take care of us? Someone else to "do the dirty work"--the bargaining, the wheeling, the dealing, the tough decision making.

I am perfectly capable of making important--life altering--decisions. I do it all the time. For other people. Not for me. What is the big deal about making decisions that I will have to live with? Am I a total wimp?

I keep hoping that this is all going to feel right--feel good--feel perfect. That I will be "led" to the perfect house, the right mortgage, the ideal yard... That my heart will quit breaking. And I think that all this should happen on my timetable (right now). Is it possible--even remotely--that this porcess is supposed to be a bit uncomfortable? a bit unsettling? a bit out of my control?

Is my next home going to be the psych ward?