It’s no surprise that my schedule (schedule? I have a schedule?) is awry. Moving has a way of throwing all of one’s best laid plans into a tizzy. My grand plan in consolidating my three blogs was to write about Life in General on Mondays and Fridays, leaving Wednesdays for Write On, and Sunday’s for The Sunday Salon book talk. Last week, none of that really happened.
I’m seriously unflappable these days. That's surprising considering my life is about to go catty-wumpus with the final move about three weeks away, followed closely by my Grandson’s first visit to Michigan.
But just when I’d expect myself to be frantic, I’m feel like I’m floating - simply doing what I can do and not sweating the rest. It’s a little bit like being on anti-depressants. Everything feels pretty darn good, and I want everyone I know to be there with me.
This is such a big departure for me, and I’m almost afraid to say it out loud lest I awaken the sleeping giants of anxiety and depression that usually haunts me whenever a big change is in the wind. For the first time in my life, I’m allowing myself to believe in signs, to follow my instincts.
And this overall sense of well being has to be a sign that everything we’re doing is right.
My presence on these pages is likely to be amorphous for the days and weeks ahead.
Just think of me - not with my nose to the grindstone - but wafting through cyberspace on a cloud of pleasant anticipation and contentment.
I wish I could beam you all up here with me.