I keep sitting down to write--I even have things mapped out in my head--and I just can't get it together. It's a good thing I don't have an editor and deadline, or I'd be in trouble.
I went back and re-read the first few months of blog posts and realized that I don't put enough into my writing anymore. I have stopped storytelling.
Dowlan's been applying for jobs in different cities. It has been seven months of unemployment and three more major companies in the area announced layoffs this month. As logical and rational as it is to accept that we may have to move, I just can't warm up to the idea. I'm comfortable and cozy here. I have backup. And I just got the house how I want it.
He had an interview about ten days back with the company that my brother has worked at for about the last five years and they have been really good to him. Moving that direction would mean being substantially closer to my in-laws, in the same area as my brother and an hour closer to my parents. It would mean better schools and cheaper housing.
It would mean a job.
But I hate any and all change that wasn't completely my idea. I lived in the same town my entire childhood and only moved to go to college. I've been here since. Our church is family to us. And I'm a hard person to get to really know.
I hate waiting.