From an email to a friend, February, 2007, after I'd looked at the house on the sly:


Dxxxx knows none of this. All he knows is that I've made a decision that this will be the year I buy a cheap vacation house. He's against it, of course, and trying to persuade me to use half my down payment money for a trip to France!

Meanwhile, I'm jumping out of my skin. Actually, I'm lovesick. Truly. I can't stop thinking about the house, the house, the house. (And what a house. OK, by no means perfect, but to tally up its good points is, well, to love it.*)

The other night, I woke at two, and stayed awake, unable to keep the house out of my mind. You'd think I'd have tired of it by six, by nine, by three p.m., nine p.m, Tuesday, Wednesday. But no.

I'm dreading the weekend. I'll have to tell Dxxxx I saw a few houses on Friday (this upcoming Friday!) and liked one. And he's going to be horrible. He's repetitively depressed as it is. That is, he keeps listing the self-same litany of miseries. I realized this week that his anxieties have been ruling us for years; more than mine ever did. I've allowed him to take over.

This must be boring as heck for you. I didn't plan to go out of my way to tell you about this, but am glad I did. You were very helpful!** (No one knows, except my father and my friend Mxxx, who went with me to see the place last week.)

* Hard to read this now and not snicker a little.

**Zillow, et al; first time homeowner pdf.