As I mentioned before, I’ve been shopping for a home. I’ve learned a lot over the last few months about interest rates, mortgages, house insurance, HOA fees, double-pane windows, etc. I had no choice. It just wasn’t sufficient anymore to simply nod. I had to understand what was being said to me and grasp exactly how deep of a hole I was digging for myself. I had to actually make these super hard and expensive decisions and justify them to myself. I still don’t know if I’ve made the right ones. I could be in way, way over my head.
I really believed the cavalry would come in and save me. By cavalry, I mean an enormous sum of sudden, unexpected money from book sales. Such a fool. In over a year, I’ve sold a grand total of eight books. Any other books that have entered the book-sphere, I’ve had to offer for free. I have to beg for reviews. I’m so ready to interact with my readers….problem is, they literally do not exist. Still, I dream. I imagine opening my monthly bank statement and surprise, there is an enormous deposit from book sales. All my troubles are solved. I can use this money to pay off the principle on my home. I won’t have to worry about large monthly mortgage payments anymore. I could relax just a bit from the daily tension of making ends meet. It’s not as though I am asking for a handout. I’ve offered a well-written book in exchange for a modest sum.
Well…the cavalry isn’t coming, but I have made an offer on a home. It nearly consumes my nest egg but it is worth it. It’s a small three bedroom home, two story. My mother will have the master bedroom downstairs. I want her to feel safe and cherished. The window in her new room looks out onto the back yard. In our apartment, she has developed the habit of feeding the pigeons on our patio. I think every pigeon in the city comes to our back porch. Now she can feed them in our backyard and watch them easily from her window. She has this fanatic, little Chihuahua, Prancer. Prancer is literally mean to everyone. But, she loves my mother and I am just her poop and pee servant. Now I won’t have to walk her several times a day, we’ll simply open the back patio doors and Prancer will run around freely without a leash.
My son is fifteen years old and he will finally have his very own room. There are two bedrooms upstairs, one for him and one for me. We haven’t even gone through inspections yet, but he is already collecting items to decorate his room. I have mixed feelings. On the one hand I am so very excited. I am thankful that I will be able to give my son this experience. I wasn’t able to give it to my daughter. We moved around so much. She got tired of waiting for her own room and finally moved out. And on the other hand, I am terrified. What if I can’t make the payments? I have to be inhome to care for my mom and so my work is freelance and subcontracting. It is irregular and unpredictable. Can I make it?
But here in our apartment the rent keeps going up. Each year it goes up nearly a hundred dollars. Paying a mortgage will actually be less than we pay to rent. But there are other fees. What if the washing machine stops working or the air conditioner? What if the electricity is too high? And now that I have sunk my nest egg into the house, I won’t have it to help me when the unforeseen occurs. Hence, terror nips at the edges of my happiness. Now, I don’t have the liberty to feel tired. I will have to keep moving whether I’m in the mood or not…like the hamster in the wheel…round and round. Happy yes…but not going anywhere.