I’m having a little fantasy about buying some property.
It has something to do with the impermanence of renting, about the feeling of disconnection in an apartment building, about the dismal performance of mutual funds, etc., etc. But I keep seeing Mr. O’Hara slopping that mud into Scarlett’s hands and telling her that she should hang onto the land, that her connection to the earth of Tara was vitally important.
See, part of the thing is that I really do like it here on the edge of Canada. And I like the thought of owning a piece of it. I have a new friend who has just plain land on offer, where I could potentially build a cabin. A Rudimentary cabin. Perhaps more of a glorified shed. Or not. I could leave it for the birds and beasts to enjoy.
And then I found a sweet cottage like place in my old town of Annapolis Royal. It’s prob a shack. I suspect the worst, after the last house I bought there, with its basement encircled by moats. But I still have a romantic attachment to the place. And it’s cheap.
So, dreaming of reconnecting. Dreaming of holding dirt in my hands and squeezing my soul out of it, finding the heart of it and holding it tight.
It’s probably a ridiculous thought. I’ve just started a new medication for MS that will use up my disposable income every month.
I’m going to tell my financial guy I’m just trying to balance out my portfolio. Or something.
Or I’ll end up giving up and sticking the dream back in my pocket for another year. Who knows.
Where is that O’Hara when you need him?