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Thursday, March 29, 2012

Chapter 3

Hi, Maria. I just found out that the property across the road from me here is for sale. It's 30 acres with an old house on it. It has its own well and septic, and already has electric and phone lines on it. There's also a creek and I think there's a spring somewhere. This is absolutely a place you could go naked all the time and not worry about being seen.
You never really told me how much money you have but I think this might be a place you could afford. Do you want me to get more information on it?

Now, I had most assuredly told him how much money I had, and how much I was getting for the house I was selling. But, I decided he must have just forgotten, him being so busy and all. Clearly how much money I had was not an issue for him. He likes me for who I am; we have so much in common.

I asked him to please make an appointment with the realtor, look at the house and report back to me. I would pay him for his time. He did this and sent back a very meticulous Excel spreadsheet describing everything. He'd obviously spent hours working on this. There was a large barn and storage shed on the property. The house had a lot of problems due to its age, but I already knew, deep inside, that I would probably go for it. I have fixed up old houses before.

Things were getting worse in the world; I had read about upcoming water wars and really wanted to have my own source. I was truly in self-survival mode at this point. Sometimes it was like I could hear this message coming from somewhere far away: GET OUT NOW, spooky voice and all.

At the end of September I once again flew up to Northview. This time I had a rental car arranged and drove to the small town of Whispering Springs. I went to Chuck's new place, which was about 3 miles away from town, and I spent a few hours there admiring all of his accomplishments. I felt so at peace there. He really had put together a warm, comfortable place for “nothing.” I was quite impressed. Bill had already departed for the winter so I didn't get to meet him. Then I went to look at the property with the realtor.

The house was old and funky but had a certain charm to it. Built in 1935, it was two levels with 3 tiny rooms and the bathroom upstairs. Downstairs was a large kitchen, a dining room and a small living room. The windows and wiring looked to be originals from '35. There were no appliances. The property, though, oh my, so beautiful.

There were a few scattered houses across the road, but all around the property was protected forest land. There were acres and acres of trees. Every window in the house had a beautiful view. It was so wonderfully quiet, mostly all you could hear were birds singing. The air smelled of pine. I made a low offer on the asking price.

We picked up some food and went to the local motel where I had reservations, a long row of units that looked out onto a lake. I had also bought us some beer, our favorite drink, to mellow out with, and mellow out we did. We discussed the house at length. I was concerned about the rope wiring which was exposed in many areas. He said it would be easy enough to fix, just open a wall here and there.

I would probably want to open some of the walls anyway, to free up some space which was pretty tight. The wall by the stairway should be taken out to allow more light into the kitchen. Actually the whole stairway should be replaced as the steps were steep and narrow, definitely not up to current code.

It would be great to put a cistern in the basement and capture rain water. Of course solar panels would be a necessity. He explained what I should look for as far as size and price. There were so many plans to be made, so much to be done; I was deliriously happy.

Later, we were sitting on the couch, feet on the coffee table, door open, staring out at the lake. Suddenly he jumped up and ran towards the door and stomped something. I asked, “Cockroach?”

No, a damn cricket.”

I said, “Why would you kill a cricket? Crickets don't hurt anything. Some people even consider them to be good luck. You could have just kicked him out the door.”

A cricket in here would drive us crazy, chirping all night. We'd never get any sleep.”

I said, “Ah, our first argument. How will it end?”

It ends by me going to bed.”

Okay, I'm going to take a bath. It's been kind of a long, stressful day for me.”

Enjoy yourself. I'll take a shower in the morning.”

I had a nice soak with some bath oil, candles, music, a beer. Then, sweet sleep. I woke up later in the night to find him tossing and turning, seeming anguished. I wondered, 'What demons haunt this poor man?”
  
The next morning I called the realtor to be told my offer had been accepted! So we had a very busy day, signing papers, opening a bank account, transferring funds. Before I left that night I asked Chuck to be my property manager, until I could return, and he accepted. Everything that day was so easy. All signs told me I was doing the right thing. What could possibly go wrong now? Nothing. 

 

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