So my novel's officially been out to five editors for nine days. Nine days. The funny thing is, my life is so chaotic and topsy-turvy right now, I haven't had a chance to sit down and fret. No fingernail biting, no worrying. I have a whole slew of other things to deal with right now, so why spend energy stressing over something I cannot, in the long run, affect?
I'm almost ready for Saturday's yard sale. Four of us are doing it together, so it's going to be huge and fun. I'll drop a load of stuff off at the house tomorrow, and then bring the rest (melty things like candles and makeup) on Saturday morning. I hope I can unload some stuff and put some money away. A good friend coined a new phrase I've become fond of: The Hannah Debt Relief Fund. My pretty kitty would be so proud.
I still can't believe I'll be out of here in twenty days. I've lived in this apartment for five years and four months. It's familiar and comfortable. But it's time for a change. Even if the change isn't what it was supposed to be (sordid story involving some of those aforementioned stresses), and not all parties are participating as they agreed. We'll muddle through. For the last two years or so, Mel and I have been *talking* about moving. Well, no more talking now. Circumstances are different, but we're still moving, dammit.
So say we all.