I thought I’d pop in and provide an update as to how things are going. It’s my hope and prayer this finds you all doing well. It’s only Wednesday, but man, it’s been a week already. I went with mum to Etheridge, Tennessee last Saturday to order bookshelves. We had another trip to Savannah on Monday; and this morning I’m headed to Memphis for a five minute doctor appointment.
I’m about tired of Tennessee.
In writing news, I am hard at work on The Rainy Ripper. The rewrite has gone very well. I cut this here, and add something over there. As I write it, a little grin crosses my lips. I’m having a blast with it. As I previously stated, life is full-tilt here.
Writing saved my life, and that’s not hyperbole. It’s the truth. In moments of great stress, or if I’m struggling with depression, I pull out a notebook and begin to write out my feelings. “I hate this person for this reason,” or “I feel like punching so-and-so in the face…with a hammer…”
It does no good to write out your feelings, if you lie about what you feel. You don’t act on it, but you write it down. I always feel better afterwards, as if some great purge has cleansed the stain from my soul.
Chunk’s doing okay. He’s piled up on the couch, his head shoved under a camouflage blanket. Our temperature bottomed out the past couple of days, but he’s had a blast running amok and leaping about.
Well, this ride to Memphis won’t happen if I don’t get moving. You guys take it easy.