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Getting in on the ground floor

October 25, 2011

Our apartment is the main level of a 100-year old home. We have a front porch, a carport for the bicycles, and a backyard garden. I’m waiting patiently for a laundry line. The landlord has supplies on hand, but is waiting for the perfect moment to install it. All things must happen in their season.

As my family approaches the two month mark since renting here, I must confess it really feels like our home. Contract work (all of which can be done from home) is slowly trickling into my own business, at a most comfortable pace. Progress is approaching with the remaining household items needing rearrangement and sorting.

Tonight we danced at the neighbourhood Diwali festival, to celebrate the triumph of good over evil. I have a lot more to say about the sights and sounds of our new urban landscape, but words won’t come quite yet.

My pen is poisoned. I had to channel venom from a vein this week, with more to come in a few days. A crippling weight has been placed upon my shoulders; call me ever so thankful that I have not been left to carry it on my own.

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2 Comments
  1. I’m glad you posted. I’ve been wondering how you are doing. I am hoping the crippling weight is lifted soon.

  2. No platitudes will work here despite my desperately wishing for one. xo

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