We moved. Again. It has been a struggle.
I hate moving. I think most people do. I’ve made light of it in the past, and I think these are some of my best blogs, but these last two times have taken something out of me that I’m not sure I can get back. You know how some things seem like like they’re going to be an adventure? A joyful, eye-opening, whimsy-filled hodgepodge of an experience? I used to kind of look at moving like that. No more, Dear Reader. The concept of adventure, the very word, has been ripped away from me, and for the first time I really understand what it is to be a Shire-loving hobbit whose had her Shire nuked out of existence.
It hasn’t all been about loss, though, as these last two moves have given me something new as well: the primal urge to commit homicide juxtaposed with a total sense of resigned defeat. I have a hellbent rage inside me that’s been balled into an piece of who-gives-a-fuck tinfoil, the cats have batted it around only to get it stuck under the fridge, and whoever thinks I’m getting down on my hands and knees to fish it out with the end of the broom can just fuck right off.
But moving twice in eight months during Covidtimes probably does that to most people.
After we sold the house, I intended on blogging about that whole experience. It was five months of nonstop fuckery that pushed me to an edge I didn’t even know could support my weight, but I thought at least I’d get a blog or two out of it. I mean, I still think I could devote about a thousand words to the concept of the paper check alone. But instead, once the stress of that property was finally gone, I experienced such a rush of freedom and lightness that I thought writing about it would just bring all the bad feelings back, and I was writing like 5000 words of fucking fiction a day, so I just didn’t dwell, I Elsa’d that shit and let it go. No exaggeration, hose were two of the best months of my entire life.
Then we moved again, and fuck, guys. Like this was really an if-it-can-go-wrong-it-will sort of move. And it’s not even over yet, but I told you, I’m defeated, so I just don’t care anymore. Jinx, jinx, jinx, what the hell ever. But the thing is, I have so much to be grateful for that I know I need to suck it up and deal, so I can’t even blog about it properly. BUT I GOTTA SAY SOMETHING because in lieu of not blogging about moving, I’m also not blogging about anything.
So I got Moderna shot #1 yesterday! We wanted to get vaxxed earlier, but couldn’t get it scheduled, and then our appointment last week was cancelled on the same day Johnson & Johnson was pulled because that’s what Costco had at the time. Now that the serum squirt is officially inside me, I am a little disappointed: I don’t even want to upgrade my Word purchase to a Microsoft 365 subscription or anything! But to be fair, I’ve been a heathen, lady-gay-abortion-loving socialist for a while now, so who knows what this thing could do to a real American.
I’ve got injection site pain that’s equivalent to the flu shot. This afternoon I had some intense lower back cramping that could have just been period pain (hmm, is that an adverse affect to a totally new vaccine or just the normal horror of having ovaries?) And then I got hella cold a little bit ago and also very fatigued, but also I am almost always cold, and lately almost always fatigued, so again I could just be looking too closely into all of this. Regardless, even if I felt like trash, it’d be worth it. I’m ready for this to be over, and I’m ready for people to feel safe again.
Here’s the part where I remind you that getting this vaccination isn’t about you, it’s about everyone who can’t get it. Just like the flu shot and measles and mumps and shit: there are a lot of people who genuinely cannot get vaccinated, and we work on herd immunity FOR THEM. Give a shit about immunocompromised people, cancer patients, babies, the elderly, just anyone else other than your own damn self.
Finally: writing. God what I would give for a day where I can wake up and just sit down at my computer and worry about nothing else but getting Lorelei in and out of as many messes as possible. I think that day is on the horizon, but it’s not here quite yet. When I do get to write, I’m putting in world building and plotting and drafting my next series which, surprise, is going to be that dark fantasy romance thingy (don’t google those terms together, it’s all bondage erotica which is fine, it’s just not what I’m doing, I’m talking about sword and sorcery with kissing in the woods). It’s a little weird to have dragged myself in this direction, but ya girl needed some escapism, and a series I’m calling Blightwood will be following up Vacancy later this year. I just started working with Anna on the covers, so I am committed to getting Esme and Ryl out to you, Dear Reader, whether you want them or not.
If you’ve signed up for my mailing list, I’ll be sending out a preview of book one, Throne in the Dark, in my newsletter tomorrow and then posting it here in a few days too, and now that I type that out I’m having a bit of a conniption that my freaking newsletter is due tomorrow! Ah! Okay, I have to unpack some more stuff and prepare for a washer and dryer delivery to a spot that doesn’t have electricity this evening, so I’m signing off for now.
A.K. Caggiano 