A brand new caravan looms on my horizon. Where are my thoughts? Forget the kitchen items, laundry powder, cleaning items. No my continual thoughts dance around my concern at limiting my wardrobe, my shoes: I have a fetish for shoes.
Two glasses of wine drunk, one pair of shoes returned to my wardrobe. A second wine, another pair of my favourite shoes is returned into the shoe wardrobe in my home. I recall the instructions on how limited space is in a caravan so I continue to cull shoes and clothes. My favourite 1981 cowboy hat stays.
My home sits in a spectacular area surrounded by water only a two-hour drive north of Sydney. Reality finally hits me. I will be removed from my healing water views, my plants that offer me the opportunity to fuss and care. How will they survive my abandonment of them?
What will tomorrow bring?