Ok, I mean, I can write it up just fine. The stairs, the maliciously incompetent contractor, the insurance, the dark night of the soul, the perfect little house – but it’s simultaneously boring and overwhelming.
So I’m starting at the end: we lived in hotels for two months, and then we had to find a new house. Everybody made it safely, even the African violet that didn’t get watered for eight weeks. Bye, Oakland. I’ll always love you, but our time is over.
Of course Dixie came too. She is six miles away, at a self-care barn with trail access. Orion and I go every day to take care of her.
We’re almost unpacked. I’m almost settled. A couple nights ago, I woke up at 3 am and spent an hour and a half just mentally going over everything that happened this summer. It’s time to start writing again.