Last time I wrote, I was in the middle of the worst depressive episode I'd had since 1994. My mood soared briefly when we accepted an offer on my mother's house, then plunged again the next day when I thought about the price: $159,000 less than we had originally listed it for. Mom's estate was to be split evenly between me and my two brothers — and unlike my brothers, who own houses already, I was going to have to move. I knew what I wanted, but didn't know if I could afford it.
I'd been house-hunting on the Coldwell Banker website for some time, looking specifically at lakeside properties north of where I lived. That was my dream: to live on a lake. I think it had been what I wanted since I was 8 years old and my parents first took us on a vacation to a cabin up north where we went fishing. I haven't been fishing in probably 15 or 20 years, but I always loved it - as a Girl Scout I had even learned how to clean fish. (I don't remember too much, though.) This was what I wanted — a lakeside retreat.
My mood switched with what was going on. On the days my realtor (who was my next-door neighbor and a dear friend) and I went to look at houses, I was happy, even euphoric. The rest of the time I remained deeply depressed. Things did not go well with the sale of Mom's house. The buyer turned bitchy over a supposed easement on the property, and her lawyers refused to return my lawyer's calls. She had accepted the survey and paid her earnest money. It was up to her to research the easement and get it removed. She made no effort to do so. I told my lawyer to go ahead and do what was necessary to save the sale.
Heavy rains in the area I was looking at revealed that whole towns were not suitable places to live due to flooding. Other places were eliminated when we found that power boats made too much noise. I wanted somewhere quiet, with an office looking out on to the lake. Not jammed up against neighbors. A place for my thousand or so books. A big bedroom. A whirlpool tub. Plenty of storage. Room to garden. I had a whole list of criteria, but the key factor was affordability.
The mood switches were confusing. It was strange to be so excited and energetic for one day of house-hunting, then depressed and immobile the rest of the time. Housework, which was my exercise, died. My healthy diet died. Work died.
Then, in mid-September, I found a house.
