The Story of a Cabin in the Woods

So I didn't do very well with keeping a vicarious quitter's diary. The actual quitter, however, has been much more successful: only one lapse in over a month of quitting. Said lapse resulted in a cold and a week of wheezing, which, to be honest, was probably caused by the wacky weather rather than his one cigarette. But that didn't stop me from playing the "see, I told you so" card repeatedly.

Today's post will begin the diary of yet another adventure, one that was born, in part, from the previous. The nasty bout of bronchitis that prompted my boyfriend to quit smoking kept him home from work for about a week. One day, he drove through a subdivision where we've thought about moving, and, lo and behold, he discovered a lot for sale. To make a very long and convoluted story very short and to the point: we'll be closing on the lot in a week or so. Along the way I've learned a lot about negotiating (mainly that we're really bad at it), neighborhood associations (a convenient excuse for everyone to know everything about everyone else, but an excellent resource for potential buyers), and more about septic systems than any self-respecting Yankee girl from the city should ever have to know.

So, as I said way back when, I probably won't ever be the Yankee on Confederate Ridge Road. But I'll stick with what I've got.