Going Home

Life feels flat these days. Too little to do in too small a space. Yes, I’ve been reading a lot, and writing some, but I can’t wait to get back home to Michigan. I love Florida and want to move here permanently as soon as possible, but we have unfinished business in Michigan, which is the least evil thing the murderous pandemic has halted for now.

We could fit this entire Florida condo into our basement at home. And that basement in Michigan is full of furniture and everything I ever thought I needed and then after awhile decided I didn’t. Al’s going to finish the basement, something he’s talked about since we moved in. “When I retire…” he always said. Okay, that’s now. But first we need to clean out and box up what will go into the eventual estate sale. Organizing the basement is the one part of the plan we CAN take action on now. And it will help deplete our pent up energy.

Funny that a chore I have avoided for years seems almost like something I want to do. I’m editing my book, too, but all other choices are limited, no matter where we live. Driving home will be a possibly dangerous adventure. I have heard from others that the highway rest stops are spotlessly clean and read numerous articles that swear hotel chains are stepping up their high-touch area cleaning game. As added protection, we have our masks and gloves and a very large jar of hand sanitizer.

Spring Cleaning for Writers

My kitchen counters are cluttered with the contents of my pantry. This is good news for a couple reasons. One ~ If I’m cleaning, I must be over the flu that hit our house just before the holiday weekend. Two ~ If I’m ready to tackle my pantry, my WIP revision will be a piece of cake.

Not that I’m eating cake. The flu helped me get through a week without sugar. I must continue to resist sweets if I want my blood sugar results to come back clean at end of June. I want to stay off diabetes medication. I fear it may be too little too late, nevertheless I will abide by these new rules my body demands. I need to be healthy as possible to write this book.

I had flu, but I wrote anyway. It feels as if I am rewriting the book from scratch, that’s how much this second draft is changing. But in truth, I’m only rearranging the words on the pages like food on my pantry shelves. I’m getting rid of expired items and building a new and better structure to support the parts I keep.

My house, my health and my book are coming together. It’s springtime and my worlds, both fictive and real, are beginning to bloom.