Sarah Crosland

I’m building a house. Well, not literally. Let me rephrase that: I have hired someone to build me a house.

It’s on this little wooded hilltop that I purchased three years ago. When I bought it, I thought “Maybe someday I’ll put a house here.” But I wasn’t in much of a rush. My life was busy and full, I liked living within walking distance of breweries and restaurants, and I half just thought it was a decent investment that I might resell in a few years.

The lot is about two miles down a gravel road in the country. I’ll have well water. There won’t be Door Dash. There will be a lot of deer. Ubers aren’t exactly cruising by. I’ll actually have to drive to my mailbox. And it’s WAY outside of my dog walker’s service area.

But this tiny dream of having a home here has niggled in the back of my mind of years and finally set up shop full time last February. And this year has really pounded me over the head with the idea that life is short and “if not now, when?”

So, I took a deep, deep breath and signed a contract. We’ve finalized the house plan—it’s a cottage largely modeled after this Southern Living plan. They’ve started to clear the land—that’s all that bright red dirt you see above. It’s going to be white with a grey metal roof, a pink front door, and a big back porch.

Anyway, I’ll be using this space to document the experience—as much for my own memories as to share with others. So, prepare yourself for thrilling topics like doorknob brands and mortar color coming soon.