After what seems like most of this year being in investment house limbo, we are on the cusp of closing on our first investment property. And I hope it works out. We’ve run the numbers, had the inspection, planned renovation projects, saved, borrowed, and been given money, and done more waiting than seems necessary for a fairly straightforward purchase. And I have a sick feeling in my stomach. I don’t know very many people who do this in real life. I know it’s a huge amount of responsibility, and just the amount of responsibility in regular life has had me anxious for ages. If this goes through, we will have three times the number of showings, screenings, fix-it-up-to-turn-it-overs, and problems. If I’ve run the numbers right and things go well, my future self could be very, very grateful for this decision. And for the hard work we are about to put in. Who knows? We may end up buying several houses and have rental property fund our stuff-lite, travel-heavy lifestyle completely. But right now none of that is true. Right now, my husband is spending days in the attic insulating, my daughter is singing to herself, and the baby is napping. And I’m scared out of my mind.