And a great kitchen.

Let’s be clear. I love the thought of moving. I love new and different stuff. I would have been an explorer 3 centuries ago. I am an explorer now.

I hate moving.

I can’t stand not knowing where stuff is. I find a logical place for everything that I take to my new home. My tent always has the same stuff in the same place inside. I put the same things in the same pockets in my clothing.

It is an exhausting process for me. I’m not comfortable until it is finished.

I pack fast. Too soon. I pack stuff that I still need to use until we move.

We never move from one place directly into another place. We use a month to overlap the move.

I don’t sleep well until I am settled. I don’t sleep well normally.

I hate this and I love this. I live for the lift of excitement. I used to get that feeling just before my first drink. I miss being able to create that rush with the bottle. Not really. I play that tape forward. Forward to the loneliness and self hate.

Where did all that come from. My alcoholism is always on my mind. Always with me. I go to an AA meeting every morning, online. I’m writing right now with an AA meeting in front of me on the screen.

My friend Carolyn is sharing on meditation as I write this.

She is always good to listen to.

Bye,

Boom. Hammers. All-in. A.I. 3/4 In.