Thus far in the 35 years that I have been on earth, I have lived in:
- my parents' home
- a college dormitory
- a house with three - and then five - other guys
- back to my parents' home
- my first apartment with my wife (incredibly small - some would say cozy - but great)
- the Ronald McDonald House (we didn't even have children at the time...)
- two more apartments (one in Oak Park, IL; one in Indianapolis)
- a college dormitory, again (I was an employee of the college, okay? I wasn't a student)
- yet another apartment
- a rented house
I am filled with excitement at the thought of my own place, but frightened as well. I keep thinking bizarre thoughts. What if something happens? What if the house is struck by lightning? What if we have a flood, even though we're nowhere near a flood zone? What if I lose my job on the day we move in? What if a million ants decide that my house would make a better dwelling place than some hole in the ground?
Surely I can't be the only one with these kind of anxieties. Can I?