A Spec in Time Series

December. It is the end of the year graced with a touch of snow, and one late blog. I should be waxing poetically about the tilt of the planet as the reason for the season. I tried and failed. I am stuck in the 5th layer of Hell: Moving.

The house is stacked with boxes and crumpled-up newspapers. Art still needs to come off the wall. The stress is really getting to me. Lazlo is always on my feet, trying to calm me for those few seconds I get to sit. Then he spends all his time encouraging me in my balancing act of stepping over and around him, precariously carrying a heavy or fragile box.

I have barely had time to breath. I’m still working full time, and well – sorry – but not writing much. It sucks! I hate it the most, and that is what is making me the saddest. It is what hurts me inside. The stress will pass, and the time missed writing will be just a delay I know, but an un-recoupable loss of time.

By this time next month, I will be settled once again. The next move better be made by the coroner, I ain’t doing this shit again. Boxes will be recycled and things will be in the places in which they live. I will be curled up in this chair the movers will take in 24 hours once again with my computer safely under my fingers, writing Spec’s adventures. I guess some of my stress is because she is pissed off about all this time away from her. She can really be a selfish, narcissistic character.