In Which I Do Laundry

What is this? Three month update? Two and a half?

It’s been a lifetime that’s what.

My life is a lot different from the last time I posted. For starters I’m no longer homeless. I have an apartment! An honest-to-God apartment all to myself! I have a bed with a bed tent because I’m an adult), a kitchen filled with mismatched pots and pans (from thrift store hunting) and a tiny tiny washer that I’m currently sitting next to. It’s adorable. It also takes forever to clean my laundry but it sure as hell beats the Laundromat.

I’m…better. Improving. Food has flavor again. I joined a local Dungeons and Dragons group and haven’t scared them off yet. Words come slowly but they do come. Writing is less of a struggle. I actually clean up after myself (nowhere as much as I should buy baby steps). There are days where I wake up and stay up. Small victories but victories nevertheless.

The bad days are there of course. They’re always there. But the depression episodes are getting shorter and duller around the edges. It’s all a process, isn’t it? You don’t break your leg and get it magically fixed at the hospital. Healing is a long and laborious process that’s never as fast as you’d like it to be. The worst are the nightmares. One of those is enough to make me feel like I’m back in the psych ward with nothing to do but color pages and hurt.

Then I eat one of those breakfast cookie things and feel a bit better. Cookies are very important in the healing process.

Writing as I said is happening, but slowly. Larkspur is speaking to me for the first time since before my hospital stay. (The first re-written chapter is up on Patreon for my followers!) My massive Good Omens fanfic is being as stubborn as its hero, the Midwife is finished but needs to be transcribed onto the computer, and I keep getting poked and prodded by another dozen story ideas. I’m not writing as much as I would like but I’m thrilled by every word that does seep out. I can worry about if they’re the right words later.

I’m still working out the kinks of this tiny washing machine. It works, but I’m still figuring out how to deal with the weird hiccups. Like I need a long intake hose. And drainage hose. I had to put a supported metal stool thing under it so the drain actually drains. And, as I learned just this moment, if you nudge the drainage hose just right you will get soapy water all over your pajama bottoms. Which means I gotta wash these too. It’s by no means a great washer (good is pushing it) but I’m working on making it better. How’s that for symbolism?


Also: If you want to help me get through the winter please consider subscribing to my Patreon, donating to my Ko-fi and if you haven’t please please PLEASE download and read my short story The Midwife and the Lindworm and leave a review on Amazon and Goodreads! I need at least 50 reviews to get noticed by Amazon and their unforgiving algorithms and hopefully get more of my writing out there.

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