Tuesday, November 1, 2016

The problem with writing to you is that I have to think of something to say. My life is currently subsumed by trying to move. So I write down my hopes, and then I tell you they've been dashed. I write about my trees, and then I tell you that someone is likely to cut them down. I feel like middle-aged Rapunzel--still stuck in the tower but with her hair sheared off and her exhausted old prince asleep at the bottom of a well.

I realize that, in the larger scheme of fate, the attempt to shift from one place to another is a non-story. Other people seem to do it without difficulty. But that is not the case with our move.

We will end up somewhere, but at this point I do myself damage by any public hoping. Middle-aged Rapunzel is a bad gig. It also makes a boring story.

So I am going to take a hiatus from writing these notes to you. I can't imagine you're enjoying them anyway. I'll try to be back in a few days, or a week. Love to you all.


Ruth said...

Oh my dear, dear Dawn.....NO ONE....does it without stress and difficulty!!!!!!!
I bought property, had it cleared, put in a well, and a septic system, dealt with the bank on a construction loan...didn't sleep for months, agonized, worried and worried. I tried to design the house of my dreams...within the constrains of my budget and now live in a house that I love, but realized what else I shoulda, coulda done.
PLEASE continue with this saga, as I can so relate!
You have so much support and love coming to you from friends!!!

Sheila said...

I always drool at your food posts. Preparing meals is important to you and you are obviously talented -- I'm curious about how you've adjusted to cooking for yourself many nights. I could use some creative ideas on cooking for one! You'll get there with the move ...

Carlene said...

The Summer of Hell that was 2014: Geoff had smashed his tibia, had to go to work using a wheelchair, and there I was at the Frost Place, frantically cell-phoning about putting an offer in on a house because our apartment floors were rotted through...and the paperwork. Miles of paperwork. Having to write begging letters to the mortgage people to allow my just-graduated-college daughter to live in my prospective house. And more paperwork. Entire forests quivered. I missed summer, as I was sitting by the phone, the fax, the computer...a never-ending cycle of humiliation emphasized by "please resubmit because we a/ lost it, b/ it's too faint to read, c/ gremlins require it" ranting. And mortgage people taking vacations and leaving critical undone paperwork on their desks. Closing details not determined until literally 4:30 the day before closing. And closing less than a week before I had to go back to work. Boxes and boxes and boxes. And...a husband freshly released from his crutches, lugging the boxes up 1890s stairs. And boxes. And trying to read Don Quixote while unpacking and repacking and boxes.

Moving sucks. Our prayers are with you. Always.

Ruth said...

No one moves or transitions effortlessly!!!!!!

If you need a break from writing to us, then please do what is best for you. However, don't stop writing on my, dare I say our account!!!!
Sending hugs!!!