I’m going to be out of commission for awhile (short, I hope) while I hunt down another place to live and then figure out how I’m going to pay for it. I’ve had a life change in the last few weeks that makes moving a necessity. What I dread is having to go into one of those “Senior communities” where the only people I see under 55 are in the supermarket. Right, I am 65–but most days I feel either like 100 or 19, depending on whether the Wellbutrin has kicked in yet.
So the marching orders:
1. Find a place that’s affordable
2. Figure out what’s disposable and throw it out
4. Become so busy that I don’t have time to grieve.
And please spare me the happy horseshit of “It is what it is.” Sometimes it is precisely what it should not be because at this age I don’t deserve it.