Where the heck is my stuff?

Experts say that moving is one of the most stressful events in a person’s life. Anybody who’s ever moved will probably agree with them. My husband and I moved just at a week ago, and I’m certainly stressed out. For one thing, I had no idea we had so much…um…stuff. We only moved about three miles, which you’d think wouldn’t be that bad, but moving is moving, and it was pretty dang stressful.

For some reason, which I’m still not clear about, I was “volunteered” to drive the U-Haul. I think I did pretty well, except for the whole backing over the mailbox thing. But I did manage to get the thing close enough to the porch that it could be unloaded. So there we were, surrounded by boxes, our carefully thought out, organized moving plan gone to hell in a U-Haul.

The next day, I went to a writers group meeting—actually a party for our one year anniversary. Ten minutes before I left, I found my hairbrush—for which my fellow writers are quite grateful. We had a great time, and I went back to my new storage space, I mean home.

At one week, we’re slowly digging out of our box maze. And it does feel like home already. So now my muse—she’s a dragon, by the way—has decided I need to get back to my writing. Now. I tried to argue, saying that I still have a lot of unpacking to do, plus being extremely busy with that whole life thing. She doesn’t care. She started by giving me dreams that were obviously plot or character intensive. A sure sign she means business. I ignored her, and last night I actually dreamed a character, plot, research I should do (and who I should ask for help), and even the opening words of the story. Peachy. Like I don’t have three manuscripts in the works (at different stages) and need to get them done. Why can’t I dream about one of them!

Okay, back to the boxes. Later maybe I can work on one of the manuscripts. Not the new one. Nope. Even if it is haunting me. The heroine is a fascinating person. And the beginning seems quite interesting. I have other things I need to work on. Really. Plus all those boxes.

Excuse me, my muse is calling—and there seems to be smoke coming out of her mouth. Oh boy.

Have a great weekend!

Cheryel
www.cheryelhutton.com