So, it’s time. Time to find that piece of land . . . somewhere. And while I’m ridiculously excited to be able to start looking, in person, I’m terrified that we won’t find it, or it’ll be too late, or even that we’ll choose the wrong one.
Our “wants” are simple: 35 acres, +/-, mostly wooded, 1-2 hours outside the metro area. Live water is a big plus, as are utilities to the property. We have a budget.
So that part is easy—and it’s not that these are in short supply; on the contrary, there are a lot of listings. Which is good, right?
Not sure why I’m concerned, because I’ve always “known” the right house/property for us. Heck, down in Texas, I picked the first house we looked at. Everyone said, “Oh, no, you have to look at MORE!” So we spent a few more Saturdays looking at, oh, twenty more houses, and guess what? We bought the first one. Same thing with my truck: I found it at a dealership, online, and went to buy it. They made me drive it first, but it didn’t matter. That was the one.
Guess I can lay that fear to rest, and trust intuition.
Why too late?
Ferguson.
I saw what happened. I hear things. I read things. People want “justice,” which I covered in another post, and things went crazy. Not here, exactly, but just a few miles away. The grand jury is supposed to have a decision in October. Hard to say what it will be.
If they indict, probably we’ll be okay here. If they don’t . . . I want to be able to get out of Dodge. We might not have to, but I’d rather we had our own place to go to if it’s necessary.
Sure, we could scram to almost anywhere; we’re fully prepared. But who’s to say others might not have the same destination in mind, and what kind of people are they? Are they preppers, or regular folks who got lucky, or scavengers?
So this is it, this is real, it’s time.
In other news, the ms of Repeat, the fourth book in the Reduced Series, is officially underway!
Robin Writes 