Frozen toilet!

Wish I'd taken a picture!  Opened the lid......bowl frozen.  Tank frozen.  That's how cold it must have been in the cottage.  Oh, hell, that's too nice of a word to use.  It's a mobile home.  Parked in a campground.  In Pennsylvania.  Yeah, well, no comments on that please.  Cold, cold, cold.
But off I went to solve the problem.
I did get the heat to work, not sure why it wasn't working, although I suspect that one should not allow a well meaning but less than intelligent friend to install a thermostat.  All I did was jiggle it a little.  Loose wire?  Maybe.  Oh, and might have been some ice or water or something in the propane line.  Had a portable heater there (kinda nice, hadn't thought about using it before) and maybe, just maybe the thermostat was cold? I don't know.
Just another wasted day, going there, trying to troubleshoot something I didn't ever want anyway.  Am I too nice?  Too stupid?  Some days I wonder. 
I am a hockey fan.  The Toronto Maple Leafs, and the New York Rangers.   Both doing somewhat better than they were earlier in the season.  I do hope it continues.  That would mean there's hockey between now and June! But, it also means that I'm being pulled towards those areas in my life.  Two large cities.  Both set on the water.  Both would offer the ability to have a small place of my own.  You know, I'm pretty sure that's part of the problem with where I am.  It's not my own.  Oh, I'm the person on the mortgage and the deed, but I didn't pick it out, didn't decorate it, didn't close the door with the satisfaction that I am within my own sanctuary. 

Part Two of the Journey or SPM no more

When I walked out of work today at 4:30, I was no longer an SPM (Senior Project Manager).  No longer tied to the business 24/7.   I applied for the SPM position three or four times, and I'm still fairly certain that one area of expertise landed me the original shot.  I don't think that anyone thought I'd be able to do the work.  Surprise!  Not only was I good, I was DAMN good.  But I knew all along that I didn't want to stay.
So the opportunity to switch to something less stressful presented its self.  I decided to apply for the Group Leader position.  Got the job.  Secured a pay check.  Kept my benefits.  I'll work three or four twelve hour days a week.   But that's not what I am, it's what I do to make ends meet, to put the roof over our heads.
I am a writer.
There.  I said it.  I'm doing it.  It's part two of my journey.  The part where it's for me, and I get to dust off all the old dreams and see if they can become new again.  I feel whole again, knowing that I don't have to answer to anyone, that even if I never publish a thing, that if I write, it will be for me and that for me brings me joy.   Joy is that elusive thing that has been missing from my life.