Things are happening to you, and you feel them happening, but except for this one fact, you have no connection with them and no key to the cause or meaning of them… A passage outside the range of imagination, but within the range of experience.” ― Isak Dinesen, Out of Africa
I’m on short rations for writing time today. I need to see lawyers and assemble furniture. It’s how I live now.
I see a lot of other Paradise Burnouts at the tent revival meetings staged by lawyers and then down the street at Harbor Freight buying the toolkits to reassemble the IKEA shipments coming in from all points. We listen to the lawyers’ spiel and then go to any shelter we are lucky enough to have and build furniture with cheap screwdrivers. Then we go back to Harbor Freight to buy screws.
It’s how we live now.
My situation is more blessed than most. I have a (very small) but very well put together apartment. It looked like this before the generosity of my readers struck with a mini-tsunami of Amazon boxes coming constantly to my door.
This is my space when I opened the door for the first time. It’s not a three-bedroom house in Paradise, but these days what is?:
This is a look at the space when I began to unpack and assemble my new life in Chico as my mother’s neighbor.
And miles to go before I sleep,
Miles to go…
As I say to all who ask about the mountains and rivers of Amazon boxes, “They’re from my readers. They made my new home possible. They returned me to life.”
Garage, 5533 Scottwood Road, Paradise, California