No Place Like Home

Which is a good thing because I am not going to make it to Kentucky this year. While waiting to hear about the car, I started cleaning my jumbled-up house. I did laundry and folded clothes. I swept and dusted. I put away stuff from workshops I did weeks ago.

That felt good.

I took up the two rugs in the bathroom and washed them. Twice.

At the end of the day I heard that the part had arrived late and the car wouldn’t be ready until sometime tomorrow. So I didn’t leave for Kentucky yesterday or today and won’t tomorrow.

Sadness.

But it means I can attend an important meeting that I wouldn’t have been able to. That’s a good thing. And I worked on my new book yesterday and I kind of know where to go from here.

But I don’t like to let Nanci down–who is the festival organizer–because she is nice and real and gave me this opportunity. And I am sad to not hang out with all those rootworkers.

Everything, they say, happens for a reason. Including this thing. Which in the big scheme of things is not so bad. Just a little sad.

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