I am starting to look a little bit forward to being stuck here for the next year. Once it's a sure thing, I will be able to look for a small apartment. My sentimental attachment to all of my stuff is maybe worth examining, but until then... I miss all of my books. I miss my wheel. I miss my stash and my coffee cups. I miss my big dusty floor pillow. I miss my knitting chair and my blue lamp. I miss having a few plants around and I miss being able to make whatever I want for dinner and not having to worry about cleaning it up before I've even eaten it or where to stash the leftovers so they aren't in anyone's way. I miss being able to walk around the house naked when I am getting ready in the morning. I miss being able to listen to my music anywhere other than in the car or on headphones. I miss living TV-free.
Plus, I am writing. Writing and submissions are still happening. My good friend, JFC, is excellent at encouraging, editing, and motivating my writerly endeavors. Despite all of the endless no's and no thank you's, he keeps being my cheerleader. Some days, it's the difference between gittin er done and not. We spent some time Sunday night working on stuff we each have in the hopper. This was after some rock and roll the night before, a wildflower hike, and a weird dinner at the Cheesecake Factory (has anyone ever had any other kind of dinner there?)... It would have been easy to be lazy, but we got each other up off the proverbial couch and over to the metaphorical typewriters. It was a good day, and maybe not the worst way to spend the next few months.