Okay, I apologize for leaving you waiting for the “rest of the story,” but I must ask you to wait another day. Yesterday, one of my many nephews also came with his pickup and a two-wheel dolly to remove the 6-foot credenza we needed hauled to the Salvation Army. Also, a wonderful friend—whom I met last September in bell choir—came and lent me her moving and packing expertise. And, then my husband, who is in Montana became responsible for filing an income tax extension and the legwork for securing a loan to purchase our next home, called me several times for passwords and directions with my filing system. You see, I’m the family bookkeeper and all of my tools—PC and files—are not here but there.
I greatly appreciate all of my family and friends who have helped us with this move in s-o-o many fantastic ways. I also greatly appreciate my husband stepping out of his comfort zone to do the bookkeeping tasks. But once again, I lost focus with my writing. Losing focus is a regular occurrence around here with all the boxes, clutter, piles of this-n-that, and nothing where I’m used to it being. Moving is not the greatest atmosphere for stimulating the creative writing side of my brain.
I promise I’ll finish the rest of the story.