Stick Season
Unwilling Housewife Unwilling Housewife

Stick Season

Greetings and salutations, friends. This post has been a long time coming. And quite a time it’s been! I fell off a tightrope without a net, metaphorically speaking, but I think we’re back in business. I’m picking myself up, one piece at a time.

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Working Too Hard Can Give You a Heart Attack
mental health, chronic illness, moving Unwilling Housewife mental health, chronic illness, moving Unwilling Housewife

Working Too Hard Can Give You a Heart Attack

We’re getting out. We have a plan. We’re moving forward. We’re moving out!!!! FINALLY. (Cue Billy Joel)

Oh, what a month(ish) it has been. Between finding out I signed up for the world’s worst health insurance company ever, to having still more setbacks on our house hunt, we finally have a concrete game plan and we are getting OUT OF HERE. (And then they ate Sir Robin’s minstrels.)

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I'm Getting Tired Even For a Phoenix
Unwilling Housewife Unwilling Housewife

I'm Getting Tired Even For a Phoenix

It was like something out of a Roadrunner & Wile E. Coyote cartoon, honestly, it was almost funny. (God, I wish there had been an Acme rocket launcher.)

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Silent Explosions in My Mind
Unwilling Housewife Unwilling Housewife

Silent Explosions in My Mind

Happy Fall! Fall always feels happier and more comforting somehow. And it’s more than the upcoming spooky season. It’s the Renaissance Festival and my wedding anniversary and a lot of happy happy birthdays and colder weather and the leaves changing color and typically the end to so much pressure in my head. So many “silent explosions in my mind”. (thank you Spanish Love Songs!) Colder weather means less pressure on my sinuses. And I'm not sure how much longer I can handle the pressure. (but that’s a different band and a different song…)

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Spit & Polish ‘Til It’s Fine…
Unwilling Housewife Unwilling Housewife

Spit & Polish ‘Til It’s Fine…

My head is clear today. It hurts like hell, but it’s clear, which is nice. It’s been hard to find the drive to write anything consistently. Or the time. Or the energy. Or the brain space. Lately the world has been filled with too much chaos, and it’s all a person can do to just hang on and not fall off this carnival ride gone wild. (Plus my goddamn screenplay appears to have flown the coop, so I’m stuck rewriting the fucking thing. That’s what I get for writing the old-fashioned way. Learn from my mistakes, people. If you hand-write your shit and want to keep your shit, scan your shit. This has been a public service announcement.

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