People keep asking me if I’m moving to California. Let me be clear: I don’t know yet.
While I am definitely “going tiny”, I am only considering a westward decampment. I’m still actively practicing, I’m still taking new clients, and I still have a bucketful of GAL cases. The appeal of Northern California hangs heavy as a counter-balance to continuing my life here, but I haven’t decided what my best course will be. Or might be. Or hopefully can be.
I’m turning pages and writing the story as quickly as my fingers allow, but weighing every option. I might end up in the back row at a trailer park in Raytown or on the Pacific coast. No road has been chosen or foreclosed.
Thank you for asking. Now just sit back and wait, and time will tell. Meanwhile, I can say that in a few months, the Holmes house will go up for sale after twenty-four years of being my home. So if you’ve a notion to live in a charming but haunted airplane bungalow in Brookside that holds a lot of memories, let me know. August, maybe September. But definitely this year. I’m going tiny! And still having a contest to Name Corinne’s Tiny House.
By the way, I’m not complaining about the choruses imploring me to announce my next big move. Rarely have I felt so loved.
It’s the eighteenth day of the forty-first month of My Year Without Complaining. Life continues.