I Have a 5-Year Plan. And I'm Terrified.

 I recently sat down to discover exactly how long I have to wait before I can buy my farm. Maybe if I did it the normal way, it wouldn't take too long, but I don't want to begin by scrabbling my way out of a hole of debt. No, I want to buy a piece of land with cash I already have in my pocket, instead of cash I don't have plus a Mt. Everest of interest.

This is what I found: If I work two part-time jobs, a minimum of 50 hours per week, for five years, and save every remotely savable penny, I might have enough to buy my farm.

This prospect, quite frankly, terrifies me. Five years may not sound like a lot to some people. ... It may not be a lot. But to me, it's infinite distance. It's nearly a quarter of my life so far. It's time not spent with my fingers in the dirt, my feet on the soil, the sun on my skin. It's five years of (what seems to me) joyless drudgery. And at the end of it, I might have to keep going. Unforeseen expenses arise. You're never able to save as much as you think you will.

I know I'm being dramatic. My attitude smacks of that American "Oh woe is me" flair that seems blind to the world's real problems. I know. I'm trying not to be a drama queen. But let me have this small spew of doubt and anxiety. I'm sure those five years–and more, if need be–won't be as bleak as I'm envisioning them right now. And in the end, I know, they will be worth it.