OK, here I am in a cozy condo in Lake Oswego. I didn’t originally plan to transition so quickly, but here’s the deal. I’d wake up in one place with no underpants and go to bed in the other without a toothbrush. My life had become unmanageable. Plus, it made me sad to sit around the half-empty house I’m leaving. It looks forlorn and so am I.
So boo-hoo (Emma puts on her stiff upper lip). We read all the Little House books. Thus we know the Ingalls family moved to terrible places. Shacks with no tarpaper, and holes in the ground with dirt floors surrounded by grumpy Indians (who could blame them?), and I don’t think toilet paper was even invented back then. So I have it pretty good. This is not Lower Hillsdale Heights, but few places are. My problem today is trying to figure out how to run an unknown vacuum cleaner, not to mention the vagaries of finding one’s underwear in a hostile environment.
Today my friend Lynn and I took a nice walk in the new neighborhood. We’re making a list of all the households that could benefit from our advice in matters such as the color of their homes and the condition of their front gardens. The owners will be hearing from us soon. And, I noticed a few days ago that there is a little strip mall I can walk to in five minutes. It’s not your usual strip mall with UPS stores and other useless things. Nooo, this one has food outlets like Bambuza and the 24-hour coffee (and pastry!) shop, and a so-called “tavern” that serves duck confit crepes.
Unlike the Ingalls family, I not only have toilet paper but also professional help. The Professional told me today that moving is one of the most traumatic things a person can go through because all our habits are turned upside down. My realtor told me the same thing a couple days ago, and added that it gets worse after one is 50. I am feeling the pain. It is no wonder I can’t find anything, that my brain is like scrambled eggs.
But I am still on my feet, as I told The Professional this afternoon. She and my friends are walking me through this one step at a time. And for that I can be, and am, grateful!
My other big problem, at least the one that is eating my lunch right now, is the sorry state of Amazon reviews for THE MAN WHO WASN’T THERE. Love the book, hate the book, your reviews are very important. In this industry, volume of reviews can make or break an indie release. If you have read the book, or any of the Emma Golden mysteries, please review the book. More reviews equal increased visibility, and for us authors that is paramount. Thank you.