Escrow closed early on the cabin I just bought, the previous owner has moved out and what needs to be renovated is very, very clear now – kind of like opening Pandora's box.  Plus a new roof needs to go on my old cabin that I'm about to put on the market etc. etc. The anxiety of writing pales in comparison to dealing with real estate.

A friend and reader of this blog suggested that fixing up a house is a wonderful metaphor for writing. (Except you're not writing out a check everytime you get a new idea.) The one thing I've found in connection is that I'm writing volumes in my journal; writing out the whole storm. This is faintly amusing because I once wrote a book called Writing Out the Storm – about writing your way through illness – and hey, I just discovered it works for real estate anxiety too.

The very latest news – good news –  is that my realtor Keith just discovered oak floors in the kitchen under the linoleum under the fake wood.

Meanwhile Nelson is simply exhausted by the whole thing. He fell asleep on the bare living room floor as I was measuring the cabin yesterday.