I submitted my offer on the land. Now I’m waiting to hear back from them. We’ve each counter-offered, and we’re sneezing distance apart, but they are mulling on it i gather as I haven’t heard anything since Friday.
In line with my relaxed, let the universe take care of it approach to this entire adventure, I am not stressing about it. Sort of. To be honest I do have moments when my stomach clenches with anxiety, but most of the time I’m reassuring myself that all will work out and it’s highly unlikely it will fall over at this point. Buying property always feels so fraught at this point, but the fact that we’ve even entered into the ngotiation and bargaining process indicates an intention to complete it.
Besides, if I wasn’t just a little bit anxious, I’d be concerned: when you care about the outcome, as I do in this case, it’s normal and entirely appropriate to be at least a bit anxious about it.
I’ve been running the numbers and working out how much I need to save over the next several years of working to afford the next phase of development, and it’s looking quite possible. Which makes it seem all the more unreal, that it could actually be real.
Meanwhile, I’m doing okay on the physical front. The shingles are healing up, thank goodness. For the next two days I am required to eat bland, low fibre food in preparation for my procedure on Tuesday. Low fibre food is incredibly unappetizing I have discovered: white bread has no texture to it, and I’m not allowed fruit or any of the veges I like to eat (tomatoes, beans, broccoli, spinach). Last night I was reduced to white rice with steamed white fish with no spices or flavouring. It was about as appetising as it sounds.
Come the end of this week, I will be either in exactly the same place I am now, or I will be in a very different one. I’m hoping to be the proud owner of 23ha of farmland, and with a clean bill of internal health. Any other permutation or combination of those two elements will put me in a very different space both mentally and physcially.