Of course she did. And it soo had to go by the boards, because reality intruded.
I am so grateful for this; she wanted me to have a safe and spacious place, where I could do the work that was still possible (like writing), and take care of (and be taken care of) by some of the dogs, with the others in a warm and secure kennel building beyond the house.
She wanted my life to have ease, and effort only as I could apply it; not demanded of me.
And I am so grateful for her intention.
But it din't work out. bankruptcy put paid to the kennel, and special-needs dogs made it imperative that the canine living quarters were in the house.
And that my sleeping place would be with them,to hold their paws when they had nightmares, and to let them out when the fear of the past loosened bowel and bladder.
The desk where my computer would rest would become a tray-table, accessible only sideways, and then - due to the need for a landline as WiFi gave up the ghost - a spot on the kitchen counter, where I have to will myself to stand, and write. My knnes, as I write this, would like to buckle.
This blog hurts.
But there is a symmetry here,and the entree to purpose. There are things that are demanded, and I would not have lived as long withut them. There is discomfort, and I would have been the poorer in thinking that comfort was my ue.
The plans failed.
But we are winning.
And here's CCR with Bad Moon Rising.