The septic guy can’t find the cover, call him,” was the message. I’ve been getting a lot of messages like this since I decided to put my 100+ year-old farmhouse up for sale. I haven’t lived in the farmhouse for years now—not since I moved out to go to graduate school and become a writer, met Peter, married Peter, and moved on with my life. The farmhouse was where I lived for many years with my first husband and then, for a while, after our divorce. The farmhouse is where I thought I’d grow old. I planted a lot of trees. I had ...