If you haven’t noticed, I’ve been off the writing grid for awhile.
Not sure how to explain it except that maybe the whole house thing got me in a bigger funk than I could have predicted. It feels selfish, callous, and shallow to admit that the house closing/selling/buying not going my way upset me in the ways it did. And I kept writing about how I was going to go with the flow and let things be as they may. But I guess no matter how much I write to tell myself to get over it, there were (are?) parts of me that wasn’t ready to move on.
Regardless of whatever funk I’m feeling, it’s time to write more. Consider myself back now. And speaking of funks:
My high school sweethearts last name was funk. So when I say I’m in a funk, what I really mean is that I feel 15, super-self-conscious, want big hair, and have a burning desire to call someone and hang up just to see if they’re home. Yep, I was that 15-year old girl.
