I'm trying to think of new information to add to the background I've already shared. Ummm well great grandfather was a captain of a ketch called Macintyre that he co-owned with Elders the insurance company. He spent his life taking goods from the port to the country towns and crops back again. He became sick in his late 60s and went into hospital in Wallaroo and someone else took over as captain. He wrecked her off Wardang Island and as she was full of wheat, she wasn't salvageable. Today she's a divesite. Anyway, the insurance payout was sufficient to build the house. His brother in law was the builder (he later built the Queen Elizabeth hospital). So this house, these bricks and mortar are what's left of his life's work. He died two years later, followed by great grandmother. The house was Nana's for a long time and I lived here as a toddler. Then it was Dad's. He commenced but never completed a renovation. He died in 2016 leaving the place in a big mess. His ex tried to take the house so we entered a dispute with her that was settled after two and a half years. It took all my savings but in the end she paid our costs which I recived in bricks and mortar, not cash. In the meantime she was horrid and left shit in the tiolets and rubbish in the corners. Could've been worse I suppose. Anyway, having paid everyone for their shares, it's now my home. I work fulltime in a job I love but it's taxing, eg, last Thursday I was asked to give a 30 minute talk to 50+ senior people on Tuesday in addition to my usual work. That's not easy to do. It's exhausting but wonderful. So the house proceeds slowly and with dignity. And I close my ears and eyes to others' opinions on what I should do with it and its garden. Having fought so hard and suffered such a lot of worry and fear, while greiving and while doing genuinely hard work, so much that my health suffered, I have ended up with a lot of my identity invested in the house. That may change but for now, advice feels invasive and its unwelcome.