This will be the penultimate post about my move, I promise. There will be one more post in which I will give you pictures, but I can't provide pictures yet because a) I haven't finished the decorating and b) it's nighttime, and therefore too dark for photography. But I can share with you the latest development. Which actually turns out to be a non-development, mercifully.
I'm renting the cottage from WriterBoy and the Homesteader; it's the guest cottage that goes with their (sizable) house. The thing is, WriterBoy got a job elsewhere and they're moving at the end of the summer, so the house has been on the market. I knew this going in, but was assured that whoever bought the house would probably want a renter, and the house might not even sell for ages, etc etc--in short, I shouldn't worry, even though they weren't entirely sure whether the lease I signed with them would still be valid if the house sold. I knew that moving in here might be risky, but I did it anyway and tried very hard not to think about what might happen.
Then, this weekend, someone made an offer on their house.
Which is great! Because they won't lose scads of money waiting for it to sell. But when I emailed WriterBoy (they were out of town) with a friendly "I sure hope that they want a tenant!", I got no reply. I tried not to worry. They were busy or whatever. But I noticed my mood slowly declining; the unpacking slowed waaay down. What if, I found myself thinking, I need to move again in a month? Oh dear god. Hoping for the best, hoping for the best....
Anyway the upshot is that my landlords came back into town yesterday and when I ran into them they mentioned that the new owners were adamant about wanting a tenant and had absolutely no intentions of kicking me out.
So I get to stay here.
Oh I'm happy! Life is shaping up nicely. And I am truly ready to get back to some kind of mental work. I don't think I've done anything cognitively significant in the last month; it hurts. I need to get myself feeling smart again.