I have both hands covering my mouth. It's a self-created muzzle, of sorts. And right now, it's oh-so necessary. On top of all of the other drama that recently threw a big 'ol house sized wrench in our plans, the septic guy now has to increase his prices significantly due to a loss of equipment in the September Bastrop fires. Not his fault, of course. Of course.
But, what else will go wrong? Let me refer back to the past two years after which a normal, lucid person would have put the place on the market and found a home already standing: Don't. Build. Don't. Do. It. At the end of this project I do plan to create a list of "lessons learned," turn it into a hand-written manual that I'll likely sell on street corners out of a shopping cart, along with dead flowers and trash. At that point I'll probably just be mumbling to myself in gibberish and petting imaginary kittens - because by then - I assume I will have thoroughly lost my marbles. Although maybe I already have. (DON'T BUILD!).