I am trying to get a mortgage (at 41! how exotic!). L. has a friend who does mortgages at a Northampton bank and she's going to set up a meeting with her for me. I joked tonight on the phone that I was going to get a house near L.'s so I could make sure nobody messed with her (I am very protective of the people I love). And she said, Ah, but could you stand not living in the country? I couldn't answer that for a while. I have lived in villages since I was 5 or 6, and I'm older than Santa Claus now. I have always considered the country to be my sanity, my refuge. But now I wonder, my refuge from what exactly? I've spent the better part of my life looking down my nose at everybody too, and in a sense, choosing to live away from people, with acres of space around me, embodies that sense of superiority to horrible perfection. I want to spend the rest of my life getting closer to other people, not further away from them.
Another of my supporting fictions falls. Is there nothing that is sacrosanct, nothing that can't be done away with now as flimsy, if not unreal, as I lurch on towards my 42nd year?
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