Feels like an eon since I was last able to sit in front of my Mac, tea at my side, and tap tap tap away at the keys.
First there was a move.
Move = stress.
Then there was the being-dumb-enough-to-fall-for-the-slick-salesman-and-all-his-promises-about-cheap-but-brilliant-internet.
Then there was the wait for a real internet connection.
And then the cold, the sore throat and the fever.
But everything good (?) thing must come to an end, and here I am at last. Although the cold meant using up every tea bag in the house and apparently in this neighbour you cannot buy regular (English Breakfast) tea in bags. Good thing the teapot I never use did not get broken or misplaced in the move.
The best part about moving is that I can see the water when I tap tap tap away at the keys.
The worst part about being without the internet was this inability to sit down and write. Don’t because I wasn’t inspired and not because I didn’t want to, but because I was worried about what might happen if something went wrong with my computer and I had to redo everything. I’ve grown so reliant on cloud saving. Laugh if you want, but you weren’t there two weeks before my Ph.D. thesis was due when this very thing happened.
Or was it just another excuse … am I still resisting the idea of leading the life I really want?
The writer’s life.