So I’m a Floridian now. Amazingly there are no palm trees immediately visible from my office, although I do have a banana tree in my front bed and what looks like a plane tree planted along the sidewalk. There are a lot of mature non-palm trees in my neighborhood, which is a balm to my northeastern-raised heart. Being surrounded by trees feels like home.
Although the trip between Richmond and Orlando went smoothly, thanks to my beloved’s insistence that we use a broker for moving our possessions we had to wait four weeks for our furniture, which came last Thursday. We did buy a sofa from Ikea the weekend after we got here, so I attempted to do some writing there. I learned quickly that when my beloved is sitting on the same sofa with his own laptop job-hunting, I’m getting nothing meaningful done. I nearly cried with joy when the movers brought my secretary desk into my office, I’m not kidding.
I plan to have a couple of pictures hung in here–that’s happening Sunday–but other than that everything’s set up. Fortunately my beloved respects the space, and while I’m still in the process of establishing a routine, it’s awesome that I have control of it.
And, finally, I’m a full-time writer. I never thought that it would come about like it did, but sitting here typing with “The Four Seasons” on my headphones and the banana tree’s fronds fluttering in the breeze, I’ll absolutely take it.