A week ago, we had made the (questionable) decision to buy a bunch of fruit trees and plant them the same day. The we’re bare root trees: this was a somewhat a requirement.
And all I could tell myself was “I’ll be happier in 3 years because I did than I will be if I had done the work necessary to move in to our new house.
I was probably right then, and a week later I’m glad I did the trees, even if I did have a few emotional break downs on Monday and Tuesday.
Because tonight I’m sleeping in my new house.
My new house that finishes what I started when I began a tiny house on wheels: if necessary (and I’m glad it’s not) I can do a passable job building my own house.
I want to reiterate. I don’t want to build my own house. I don’t have the time, nor the desire to do it all again. But I could. On my three building projects, I’ve done the necessary trades to complete a house.
Not to a professional level for any of them, really.
But I’ve done it. And I’ve gained skills–and more importantly confidence in those skills.
Some of what I seem to do is just self-challenge: what stupid situation can I put myself in to get out of?
And those challenges push me (to breaking sometimes), but also reinforce my confidence in my abilities.
And so a week later I’m in my own place. And everything works.
A few pieces need to be finished before it’s totally complete. But I’m sleeping in my own bed. In my own house. For the first time in 85 days.