Don't you just hate it when someone gets you so mad you want to poke them with a stick, but because you're talking to them on the phone you really can't poke them?

Yeah, me too.

"Well, you don't have any fire hydrants near your home," our insurance agent said. Well DUH. This would be the agent for the company that has been insuring our home for the last 18 years. They have known all about the quirks of this house's location and accessibility and we've paid higher insurance than normal for all those years because of that.

Three weeks ago she warned me that our premiums would go up even more.

Okay. Fine. We'd deal.

Then Monday, a week before our policy would lapse, she told me that we might not be able to get insurance at all because of the isolation of our home. The rules have changed since Sept. 11, she said. Insurance companies are taking a very, very hard look at what kinds of risks they want to take.

When I got that news I could feel all the blood vessels in my neck throbbing. I really, really had to take deep breaths. It was hard to unclench my teeth enough to enunciate.

"Let me get this straight. One week before our policy is about to lapse, after 18 years with your company, you tell me we might not be able to get insurance at all?"

"Yes." I could hear her wince at the other end of the phone line. There was no point yelling at her, that would only create bad feelings and I needed this woman on my side.

Have I mentioned that I really, really wanted to poke her with a stick, though?

"Is there any point me going to another agent?"

She said there wasn't. Our home had been red-flagged because of its location. It Was In The Database.

Fine.

That was Monday.

"I should have news for you on Wednesday."

I filled the spousal unit in on the situation. Normally I handle the financial side of our lives because he's never been interested in those things. He got intensely interested, though, when he heard that our insurance company might soon be telling us "buh bye, have a good life."

Wednesday rolled around, no call from the insurance agent. I called her at 4:30.

"They promised me an answer, but it hasn't come" she said.

It's amazing how even miming poking someone with a stick can make you feel better. "Tomorrow morning, I promise," she said.

It's amazing how rolling your eyes can make you feel better, too.

She told me she'd sent our house specs to two other companies and was waiting to see if they'd quote on it.

Thursday came. No call. The spousal unit came in after a long day of work very tired. He looked more tired when he heard she hadn't called. We have spent almost all our lives together in our home. We've built it with our own hands. If disaster were to hit this place, we could never find enough money on our own to build again.

I watched all that play across his face. Had I been within poking range of that woman at that moment, she would have borne an amazing resemblance to a dart board.

Friday morning I called her. Her voice told me she was as miserable about this as I was. The two other companies had refused us outright.

Friday afternoon she called back with the news we would have insurance but it would only cover the house, not our outbuildings, the deductible would rise and the premium would be hiked substantially.

Oh, and we're no longer covered for terrorism, which is a lovely bit of irony since it was an act of terror in another country that set off this whole chain of events in the first place.

You know, back in our 20's when we built our tiny log home off in the woods, I thought we had pretty much unhooked ourselves from the pressures of the bigger world.