Survival of The Moving Writer

Okay. So the moving thing hasn't happened yet. I'm in limbo. The closing was changed to this Friday and everything is now in boxes downstairs in one room. I'm too organized for my own self. I'm finishing the last of the cleaning; baseboards, ceiling fans, and scrubbing any spots on carpet to ready for the carpet cleaners. I've steam cleaned bathrooms, kitchens, floors, carpets, and touched up walls with paint. There is nothing left to do but wait.

Our walk through on the new home was put off again, and frustration is setting in. If closing doesn't happen this Friday, we have no place to go. If I have to move everything into a storage unit and then have to move again, I'll scream, and scream, and scream some more.

My nerves are frayed and tickling my scalp. My hair is falling out, and my body hasn't found a spot that doesn't hurt. My husband, of course, bless his little pea-picking heart, is out on the boats and doing his thing, while I suffer, work, and slave myself to the bone (even my bones hurt).

I need a break here. So, I've decided to write to give me that Calgon moment and take me away into another world moment. My world. The world I love to escape into when my brain can't handle another second of stress. Yay! I can move my fingers to the beat of my thoughts. The sound of the keys tapping is music to my ears.

I feel my heart rate slow and my muscles relax as I tap, tap, tap away. The words flow like a waterfall over the edge of a mountainside. The sounds are soothing to my mind. I'm here in my world, and now ready to work on completing my second novel.  To heck with moving. It can wait. I have better things to do. Aloha!