It seems lately when it comes to sitting down and writing I have been nothing but distracted. Not by the kids or work or anything, it just seems like every time I sit down to write something, anything, I just don’t feel like it. It’s an odd feeling for me. I find I do my best writing when there is turmoil, or something on my mind or if something is bothering me. Let’s face it, in my life or any ones for that matter, there is always something going on we could write about. I usually always have something on my mind.
But lately, it seems like I don’t. I mean, I have plenty on my mind, but lately, just don’t want to write. It scares me a little, am I on the path away from writing, the one thing that brings me such solace and replacing it with a real life? Ge’ez I hope not. It’s like that feeling when you start to realize that a really close personal relationship is going to end, and its the last thing you want to happen.
I hope I have just been pre-occupied. I have a new home and my friend, Kirsten, her and her husband have been so gracious to help me out around the house. So far, he has installed my closet shelves and bars, and is currently installing some overhead lighting for me. They have kids close to my youngest age, all boys, who get along great, and now I am starting to work out with Kirsten at the local gym and have met yet another friend through her. I am hosting a book club, starting hopefully next week in my new small town local coffee shop, and really becoming even more settled than I ever thought possible in my already simple little life.
Kirsten’s husband teases me and says he needs to find me a boyfriend to do my long list of handy work, as he is starting to spend quite a bit of time tending to little fix it jobs here. But since the last blind date they set me up on was a complete disaster, I just roll my eyes and tell him the truth.
I am happy just the way I am.
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