Place of My Own

I began the process on Thursday of finding a place of my own. I called the mortgage dude - the guy that will have all the money answers - to have him start the prequalifying process. And I noticed that my stomach heaved and bubbled during the entire 30-minute conversation.

I am afraid I will only qualify for enough to get a box in an area where I need to be a tae kwon do black belt armed with mace and pepperspray.

I am afraid that I will qualify for much more than that and, yet, never be able to afford it.

I am afraid that the house I love is way, way, way! out of my price range.

I am afraid.

Oh! And, god! Apparently, I am angry too. Shit.