The dog ate my computer.
Naw, that’s not right. Can’t blame my lack of writing on Aw’gy – in fact, I can’t blame much of anything on him. Darn that dog.
Here’s a better one: I’m selling my house and moving back to Familyville, aka Indiana. In the last three weeks I’ve interviewed five moving companies, sold
most of my furniture, caulked the voids in the bathrooms while the pros have made minor electrical repairs, tarred rooftop cracks, combed the hail damage out of the air conditioner … and enjoyed my friends.
Why on earth leave the Land of Enchantment? It is beautiful here, the people are lovely and there’s that thing about the skies not being cloudy all day. (The Chamber of Commerce extolls 340 days of sunshine, but you know how copywriters exaggerate. Last year I counted a mere 328.)
I put my Calais Avenue house on the market before Christmas, held my first and last garage sale in April, drove to my sister’s in Crown Point in May to spend some quality time with family. Mid July I got a workable offer and drove back July 23-34 to pack and move. Luckily my sister and brother-in-law have invited me back while I decide where I want to buy, rent, camp.
When I think about the fact our time on terra firma is but a flash in the cosmic pan – even if I live to be a healthy hundred and just fall asleep one night while watching reruns of “Third Rock from the Sun,” – I want to spend time with family. Writing, traveling and enjoying my siblings, their children and their children. (No, Meredith, it’s not about the weather. Otherwise, I’d be moving to Hawaii.)
Who knows how long we have? Let’s work on no regrets. Live purposefully, with intention. My friend Sue is a loving, laughing, vibrant octogenarian. When I asked her secret, she said, “Keep healthy and stay close to your family and friends. That’s it.”
Tomorrow is the closing, packers pack on Friday and movers load on Saturday. Boxes of books, cookware and collectibles plus a few pieces of furniture will be heading storage in Michigan City, Indiana. In the meantime, I’m making a pot of halupki for friends coming for dinner tonight.
So, I have allowed moving details to interfere with my writing. Not happy with myself about that. Oh, and the hard drive on my iMac crashed during a rare electrical storm earlier this week. No, I didn’t have an external hard drive and no I didn’t have a surge protector. But I do now, on my trusty little Macbook, while I’m trying to figure out how to at least extract some copy and photos from my dead Mac. And yes, I was pis-ed at myself for not protecting my data but it’s not life or death, right?