As I look around my empty but chaotic apartment I can’t help but feel what my stomach must look like. I’ve had some alien stomach virus that comes and goes for days on end when you least expect it. I ate pancakes this morning (they were the only thing that sounded good) and lived to regret it. The nausea is just now abating. Of course it wasn’t helped by looking around this forlorn place. My bedroom is still intact so as long as I don’t look anywhere else when walking through the house I’m fine. Really.
The cleaning out and packing starts in earnest on Wednesday. I’ve been brutal so far. Just hope I won’t regret it when I have little of the familiar around me when I need it. Yeah…that’s what they all say, when faced with throwing away priceless junk.
Karen Macinerney’s third book in the Gray Whale Mystery “Berried to the Hilt” started out great. A pristine island off the coast of Maine, a shipwreck, pirates and modern salvage techniques made me think this would be her best so far but it was disappointing. A monkey could have figured out who the murderer was. The recipes were the only thing that kept me in, and seeing if the monkey was right. Well…back to imagining an appetite.