It was now early January, and while we were meant to close on January 21st, everything seemed very uncertain.

We were trying to untangle the question of the sale opposition, which required a lot of talking. Talking to the judge who was responsible for approving the sale, talking to the notaio, talking to the auctioneer, talking to the sellers, and anyone else who was remotely involved in order to clear up the entangled legal mess inside which our future home was marinating. Except now it was not just the holidays we were up against, we discovered the judge was unfortunately ill and out sick.

All the while, we were still working on hiring the right contractors and tracking down the right paperwork to be ready in case the opposition was rejected. At this point, we did not know what we would ever do without our incredible lawyer who was working tirelessly to overcome every obstacle, as every step of the way we lost more and more in translation as the whole situation became more and more complicated.

We had been so focused on closing on the property that we almost forgot another very big item on the list: Dan and I needed to make plans to move to Italy. I mixed up another cocktail of whiskey and Pepto Bismol to stave off the ulcer I was surely getting and wondered what exactly we should do. The way the Italian visa process works, you need to be able to prove that you have a lease for a year, or a private residence in which to live, as Italy apparently frowns on hand-written notes that say ‘I promise I won’t live in a cardboard box on the street.’ But with everything tied up as it was, we did not have any notes, hand-written or otherwise, that said we had a place to live, which meant no visas, which meant when exactly were we planning on moving to Italy?

Eric also knew he would also have to go to Italy to finalize the purchase, but we had no idea if the signing would be happening on the 21st or not. What if he bought a ticket and the signing got delayed somehow? Giorgio was texting him updates on the probability of it happening, but he was never getting us into solid B+ territory. And as the clock ticked down, plane tickets ticked up.

So we did what any reasonable people who are buying a villa on a dream and prayer would do: with no facts to back it up, we bought our tickets anyway. Dan and I bought one-way tickets for March, because why not. Eric purchased a ticket for the afternoon of January 21st. Since the signing was supposed to take place at 7am PST, he would know by then whether he should get on the plane.

Then Eric and Giorgio and Dan went back to doing the heroic work of chipping and hacking away at The List, until finally, on January 20th, we thought we had it all sorted out. Maybe. Hopefully.

But we refused to celebrate. We had learned our first lesson more than once: nothing is done until it is done. And there was still that big final piece of the list: getting the opposition dropped and ensuring everyone showed up the day of the signing. We still had no idea if any of that would happen.

After weeks of working and waiting and waiting and working, feeling like we had won something and nothing, the day of the signing arrived.

Dan and I were traveling back to North Carolina from his parents’ house in Florida. When we got to the airport in Florida, we got our first bit of good news: the opposition had been resolved! And then our second bit of good news: everyone had shown up to the signing! We held our breath, hoping the next bit of news would be that we owned a villa.

But 75 documents needed to be signed, so it would be hours before anything was truly official. We stopped holding our breath, for health reasons. We were taking off right as the signing started, but Eric was on the ground to keep in touch with Giorgio through the signing to authorize any last-minute negotiations, of which hopefully we would have none. But there were 75 documents! Anything could happen. A biblical flood could break out. Wild boar could break in. Someone could get a hand cramp. I went back to holding my breath, just in case it helped.

It was time to take off. Now, one would think it would be the worst thing in the world to be on a plane while this was all happening, unsure what was going on, but if there is anywhere to be wracked with anxiety and worried that things might go wrong, it turns out an airplane is really the best bet. Especially if there is bad weather. Because with bad weather, there will be major turbulence, and with turbulence you will have to stop holding your breath and wondering about whether wild boar can operate door handles to derail deed signings. There are now more pressing wonderings, like is the plane is going to crash? How long can a person survive after a plane crash, statistically? Did I call my mother enough? Have I ever really loved anything?

And then you land and everything is fine and you’re too busy with your new existential crisis to remember what you were worrying about when you took off! It’s like therapy, only worse in every way.

Fortunately for us, there was terrible weather and tons of turbulence to distract us from whether or not the signing was going as well as we hoped. The moment the wheels set down on the ground, I busied myself with compartmentalizing my existential break down into a little box where no therapist would find it and also packing up our backpacks. Then Dan touched my arm and showed me his phone.

The minute Eric had received the news that the signing was proceeding without issue, he had grabbed his brother-in-law, Scott, and they dashed off to the airport, hoping they were on their way to our new villa. Otherwise, they’d be on a plane ride to Italy where we did not own a villa, which would be a very depressing plane ride, with probably no turbulence to distract them. They headed to the airport with the possibility that anything could happen. Then we landed, and Eric forwarded us an update from Giorgio.

“Done,” Giorgio wrote simply.

Done.

A year and a half of searching and planning, hundreds—or maybe thousands—of properties reviewed online, 30 properties looked at in person, one failed sale, one auction win, 46 frantic days of pulling together a sale over the Christmas holidays, battling legal opposition, having our team work late into the night and drive documents all over Tuscany down to the very last minute, and finally, finally, it was done.

We owned a villa.

Dan and I dashed off the plane, found the closest bar at the Charlotte airport, bought their finest tiny bottle of airport prosecco, and, to the dulcet sounds of a man singing bad country covers while sitting next to a non-functioning mechanical bull, Eric called us, and we all officially popped the cork to celebrate our purchase of our future Italian resort.

Finally, after much waiting, here it is: our first—and hopefully not last—champagne moment. We officially navigated the Italian real estate process and officially own a villa in Tuscany! This absolutely never would have happened if we did not have the world’s best lawyer, as well as the rest of our incredible team, who worked at all hours of day and night to make this sale happen, and even was working right up until the moment pen hit paper on the deed to complete the sale. But happen it did, and we are all so excited, and have learned our first Italian phrase: non vedo l’ora! We can’t wait.

So the easy part of buying the property is done. Now comes the hard part! Turning it into the luxury boutique resort of our dreams.

Oh yeah, and securing visas and every other piece of paperwork we need to make this all work before March.