A few cult affiliates have sent me private “No really, are you ok?” messages over the past few days. While I find these comforting, it also concerns me. People usually only ask me if I’m ok when I’m not. And considering the influx of “Are you OK?”s coming through… I guess the gaps between posts speak a bit for themselves.

I don’t mix well with landlords or leases. At the moment, I’m wiggling my way out of one to get into another. I’m not entirely sure about daily decisions I make, but how sure can someone possibly be?

I never realized until I was divorced how much my husband in Australia helped me out making rational choices. I’m little miss impulsive, finger on the trigger. Sometimes it helps to have a voice of reason lurking to question, “You sure about this?” at all the right times.

The only certainty I have at the moment is a distaste for my current residence. I swung the move so quickly, it hasn’t settled in me yet that I’ll be back in Manhattan in ten days.

I’m pretty proud of myself for surviving my first 15 months back in this big city all on my lonesome. I’ve had two jobs and three apartments. Never in my life did I ever think I could afford my own place in midtown. The fact that I pay for it by Writing still blows my mind.

Love, thanks and kisses to everyone checking in on me. I’m treading steady and promise to get back to daily updates. Once the current beatings I’m copping subside.

Breath in. Breath out. Not as easy as it looks…

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