Today, for the first time in two months, I returned to my computer and began to write. It’s been so long that my fingers are having trouble typing because of lack of practice.
The reason was not writer’s block. I’ve been traveling in Europe for the last two months. Three days in Paris, thirty-five days hiking across Spain on the Camino Norte, a week in Porto, Portugal, a week in Palma, Mallorca, followed by another three days in Paris.
It was a long a beautiful trip with my husband, but I’m happy to be home again with my dog and my writing. We’ve been back almost a week, but it’s taken that long to get the house and yard back in shape so that I can take the time to work. It’s mindboggling how much can change in a couple of months even when nobody is here to create a mess. But now that’s all done. The refrigerator and pantry are stocked, the yard is trimmed, the dog is sheared and happy we’re back. Now I can work.
I can’t say how I’ve missed sitting in my office, exploring my mind, working on projects. I think it will be a long time before anyone can blast me out of here again.