Whew.

I woke up this morning in my new house.

Things are still in boxes, but I am partly unpacked. Most of my clothes are in the closet or in the dresser I took from the other house. I need to go through the boxes the movers put in the basement to figure out what needs to be unpacked and what needs to be put in a box that can be taken to my next home, whatever that may be.

The new house is a temporary stopover. Son and I have moved in with a coworker who has also just gotten separated. She may sell and move in the spring; she's not sure. Which is perfect for me, because the one thing I know at this point is that I cannot make any decisions. I can't buy a place. I don't even want a yearly lease. I need to take a good, long break before I even think about what to do next. In the spring, I will have a better sense of what Son and I need. We will talk about it then and decide together. Right now we are both too raw and vulnerable.

I'm thumbing this on my phone. I ran away from the office and am hiding in a coffee shop with my back to the door. It is very unlike me.