The landscape of the various health issues that have plagued me in recent years has changed in the past few months. I’ve had more trouble with asthma as I wean myself off my steroid-based inhaler, but also a little more energy as we bring the h-pylori and candida under control, along with changing some of my hormonal profile. As is generally the case, that bit of extra energy got hijacked by some thoroughly unexpected news last week: Our landlord decided that for personal reasons, seven and a half years was enough. We are being forced to move by the end of April.
Initially the distress and shock of the announcement gave us a sleepless night. Then we started haunting Zillow. Monday (Valentine’s day) we found a new listing that we were able to see Tuesday afternoon. By Tuesday night we’d made an offer that was accepted Wednesday night.
We’re actually buying a house. A few years earlier than the timeline we’d imagined as necessary.
Now our move is on the fast track. Now we’re dealing with entirely different stresses. And the old Psyche article about “being on the fence” is our lived experience. Our pups are keeping a close eye on us, and it’s interesting calling back to a Guardian article summarizing some of the cognitive research about canine emotional resonance with humans in this new context. It’s also useful to implement some of the coping mechanisms outlined in “Sunday-night scaries” – even though the level of existential dread described there doesn’t quite line up with the just… very-busy-brain experience hubs and I are dealing with. And then there’s the extra bit of adjustment required for my evolving cadence of hybrid work.
The news that soothes my spirit is that our new house is in an HOA-free community, so I can proceed with plans to rewild our 4+ acres, and do what I can to counteract the sixth extinction event in my little corner of the world. I may or may not experiment with an electricity-free way of keeping food cool, too.
Interesting research about black holes stretches my brain to think about some of the stories that have been simmering in the back of my mind over the past year. And then there’s the recent discovery that being in space causes humans to become anemic. Closer to current reality is the fact that after decades of hubs and me seeking out the streaking, bright light of the ISS in the night sky… it’s close to its fiery end.
It’s always fascinating to me to see the current shape of just how much we don’t know – and the corollary arrogance of those who are sure they can explain away these mysteries.
So I’ll be going radio silent for another few months as we transplant ourselves an hour south under the pressure of an at-once fixed deadline, but also one that affords us the flexibility of making many small trips to shift breakable bits and clothes without having to pay for that privilege. The distance between our closing date (March 9) and our final move-out date (April 30), and the relative nearness of our two abodes means we at least won’t be facing the time/space pressure of limited truck space and a one-way trip.
I am grateful. For so many of the things, big and small, that lined up to allow us to inject a little stability into the uncertainty of our world. And I am confident that being closer to nature will improve my energetic health, and therefore also my ability to return to fiction writing. So keep your fingers crossed for us as we embark on this new adventure. I will return once we’re settled.