I am currently homeless. The situation sucks and doesn’t suck at the same time.
I am staying at the Inn until my new place is ready. The view from my room is amazing and I have worked out an equitable arrangement with the Innkeeper. As well, friends offered to share half of their storage unit so my belonging are safe and dry for the time being.
Which is good, because my new place is taking its sweet time getting ready. The process of replacing the broken windows and the sagging bathroom floor is less expeditious than anticipated. My fingers are crossed that the repairs are completed before the Inn’s generosity flags.
I am editing the book of a friend while in this limbo. The task is more difficult than I had anticipated. Because the story is a contemporary romance, I advised her to rework several scenes on the basis that if things progressed in the manner she was describing, the book would be about an emotionally abusive relationship that ends in a murder/suicide.
I actually said those words.
I must be in quite a mood.
The waves are crashing against the cliffs outside. There is the light of a boat on the horizon. The sky is dark; it’s not yet six in the morning. I’ve been up since three. I’m on my third cup of coffee.
I’m in limbo but the view is nice.