I somehow managed to contract a 48-hour bug that had my tummy tender and my temperature up last week. I slept for the better part of two days, then spent the rest of the week trying to recoup my energy. Yesterday was the first time I’ve ventured out since. And I guess if one is going to be sick, it might as well be when one can’t work outdoors anyway, amiright?
Our lives tend to happen in sprints, followed by (sometimes long) pauses. We are in a lull now, so I’ll save my energy and take care of stuff I can without working outside. One of those tasks is to scroll through almost a decade of pictures stored in the cloud while looking for something, anything, that shows the inside of our home—furniture, knick-knacks, artwork. Next, we’ll need a room-by-room inventory of everything we can recall—some of which will be irreplaceable. That’s not a chore either of us is looking forward to.
First Reader and I are firm believers in asking for what we want and letting the Universe guide us as our dreams become reality. Our new home will be no different. For most of our lives, before we met and since, we have both lived that way. As long as we are working toward that larger goal, we know everything will fall into place—one small task at a time. Now we have March staring us in the face, and we still have a bit of cleanup to take care of before we can start laying the foundation for our first new structure—a shed.
We plan to drive up next week with our recovery case manager to survey the property to get a better idea of what we need in the long term. He will help us assess what we, and our property, will need to properly recover from this disaster. As the seasons change, so will our view of the barren landscape. I can hardly wait for spring.