Today was big.
After weeks of wondering if my visa application would make it--there were serious complications along the way, there was a question about whether or not I would be able to get on the plane--exactly two weeks before I am to leave for Scotland, the visa came through.
Two weeks from today, I move out of the USA and move over to the UK.
That was the first part of the morning.
Then this other thing happened.
I signed a contract with a literary agent--Darrell Vesterfelt--to represent two books.
(I know, I know. You want details. You have questions. Soon. I promise. Soon.)
So.
I need to pack up a life.
I need to write a few books.
I'm standing in my room--it's a mess, a complete mess--and my eyes are damp.
I'm on the floor. My room is a mess. Who can be trusted with all this when your room is such a mess?
So.
I'm taking a break.
The emotional dam has burst.
I have lived in a kind of shock for six months denying I would be getting on the plane.
But I'm getting on the plane.
Tomorrow, the sensation--yes, I really wrote that. Originally it was to be sensational. Good Lord, I'm supposed to write books?--Kristin is sharing for Conversations with Ourselves.
I'm loading up Buffer, the tweets of her excellent post shall fly, but I'm taking the day off. The week, actually.
I'm going offline in an hour or so. I'll lurk a few of your posts and creep around, but I need to quiet.
I need all this good to rest here for a bit.
See you soon.
(And thank you. Do I ever tell you enough? Thank you.)