t’s been a tough couple of months. I suffered a month of nonstop overtime, only working or sleeping for five weeks in a row. And all this went largely unrecognized. Then there was the scare that I might have a degenerative disorder, something that might lead to my crippling or death. We had a train convention in town and I had to work like a dog to get us through that. And then my beloved cat’s kidney packed up, and we did everything we could (including painful things) to save her but failed, and ended up burying her in the deep soil in her favorite sunny spot. I still tear when I think of that.
So I’m left battered and exhausted, worn out by all the heartbreak and betrayal of everything I counted on.
With everything behind us, we took a break, traveling up to my mom’s cottage in Beech Mountain, North Carolina. And here I can sit (as I am now) with my laptop open, looking down over a peaceful valley, just unwinding and learning how to write again.
And so much to write.
I’ve got a half-dozen books to review – when my cat was sick, reading was my only opiate, and I plowed through book after book with her frail failing body in my lap, just losing myself in other lives. So now there is a stack of reviews I’ve got to backlog through.
Also had a short story I promised for a group. So I finally got off my ass and got to finishing that. And I had an OpsLog (a model train ops session) report to write. And even a Dog Ear (this one).
So I’m sitting in peaceful surroundings typing away, remembering what I’m doing and checking the Windows date because I don’t know what day it is. But yes, this is nice. I’m glad to see I can still write. I was afraid I’d lost it (in the height of my grief, I had).
But it still doesn’t solve my problems. The work orcs are still there, still building their siege towers to assault my professional position. My cat is still gone – I miss her horribly. And there are more train shows coming up, things that will cost me precious weekends.
But at least I can keep writing. That’s what’s important.