I look forward to having my feet underneath me again -- at least that feeling.
Again, I'm lucky. A place to stay, food, some savings. Last night colleague Laura Lane stopped to see me and brought me a hunk of meat to cook. She used the word "adorable" far too many times to describe my living circumstances at the cottage. But, in fact, it is quite adorable.
She chastised me for keeping my shelf-stable food in the middle of the kitchen in a laundry basket. And the inside of my fridge looked like that of her 21-year-old son.
Then she found Ring Ding packages -- empty. OK, I have made some poor life choices.
Laura also said I need to step up my game on the blog. I agree.
But I'm also just trying to breath right now, just trying to keep doggy paddling my fat head above water.
I imagine, then, for those who have it much worse. How they're drowning and can't catch a breath. They can see the sun, a blurry orange ball through the water, but they can't feel its warmth.
I suspect that feeling of feet underneath me will come.
Love all of you.