Feeling displaced. All beloved life has been distributed. My folks have the girls, the kittens are with friends (we got our first kitten report via email this morning), my wife’s up in NYC on a long-planned, long-anticipated celebration with a dear friend (having left on this train early this morning planning on so very carefully inspecting their apartment!).

It’s really not so much that everyone’s gone. Everyone’s happy where they are, and on a rainy day on which the recent heat broke, I would normally be quite happy myself. It’s really not so much that everyone’s gone. And it’s not even that I don’t get to wile away rainy day hours at a coffee shop, with a book—that I’ve got quite the to-do list. It’s that we don’t have a place for everyone to come home to. And yes, it matters—it’s important that most of that to-do list involves working on getting that place back to being the safe, comfortable place we want it to be—that everyone will be able to come back home to, but it’s not that right now.

Again, I remain so aware of the all too many who don’t have a place and for whom that doesn’t mean they’re working on getting a place that was safe and comfortable back to that state.

It’s interesting, after the initial overwhelming shock, having done the research, talked to the experts, a plan has taken shape. The date for the first treatment is scheduled. I know what needs to happen before that treatment can take place. It’s still overwhelming, but not in quite as overwhelming a way. Doesn’t that make a whole lot of sense! And the process has begun.

And maybe, if I work hard—feel good about what I accomplish today, then later, I’ll take a book (carefully inspected) to a coffee shop.


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