I remember the Golden Age of blogging.
Back then I’d get up to 2 page views per day.
Once I even got 4 likes.
Nowadays I’m lucky if I have one visit per week.
Blogging is in a way Survival of the Fittest, I suppose, but I just refuse to quit.
My third grade teacher told me I was going to be a writer and I’m sticking to that.
Still… Some days I can’t help but wonder what she saw in me.
Sure, we got the house alright, and that is super exciting and all, and I would have shared the news here first…
With the loyal readers who are intimately familiar with my dramatic backstory…
How I was so poor after college and totally suicidal and then pretty much homeless six months ago, living on less than $1000/month (trust me, that’s nothing in Southern California)…
And now in what seems close to a miracle, suddenly a homeowner.
And not just any home…
A creek runs through the back yard (or would run through it if we weren’t in a drought)…
Tons of squirrels…
Lovely neighborhood in which we literally saw Magneto walking down the street the other day.
The town is a haven for painters, playwrights and musicians.
I fit in.
Yes, I am happy, and I want to tell the whole world.
But my loyal readers are more of an abstract concept than real people, so this happy ending didn’t get the momentum I would’ve enjoyed.
I was going to post the following pics on Facebook but my husband says it is insensitive of me cause a lot of people at our church are losing their homes.
I’m so insensitive.