I swear there’s a quote out there somewhere about joy and sorrow walking hand-in-hand. I just can’t find it, which means that I either stole it from someone I know, or I’m a genius and I made it up but can’t remember when or how. Really, either is fine with me.
I meant to write and post this more than a month ago. November 22nd marked ten years of very Much Later. In case you haven’t noticed, I don’t capitalize very. Never have. Why? Because I’ve been told that “real writers don’t use that word” but it worked in the title. Ridiculous, I know. Is it a branding thing? A rebellion of some kind? Yes.
I moved recently. Into a house! Not a fourplex, not a duplex, a house. With zero shared walls. I can’t hear the neighbors sneeze, fight or makeup afterward. I have my own yards, both front, and back. I can even have pets there if I ever plan on being home long enough to care for them well. I will not likely get a pet, is what that means. I moved into this place a month ago. I’ve done the settling in, buying and selling of furniture, figured storage out, but I have to admit that there are a few boxes just sitting in the middle of my living and dining rooms. I mostly know what’s in them but I don’t want to deal with them.