Wild horses couldn’t drag me away from this blog.  Or so I thought.  I was right — mostly.  I haven’t written in almost a month, but I have remained very much a part of Prostate Cancer World.  I check my PC news pipeline every day and look in on the online PC communities.   And of course, I read tons of related e-mails.  Even send a response now and then.

What has been keeping me busy in recent weeks is my home, actually a two-bedroom cooperative apartment here in NYC.  For years, we enjoyed watching our “piggy bank” grow fatter and fatter, seemingly oblivious to falling home prices all over the country.  But then came the Economic Collapse and a sour taste of reality.

Dear husband and I panicked.  We could deal with the hemmorhaging in our 401(k) accounts, but what scared us was the thought of home prices plummeting.  So we thought maybe it’s time to break open the piggy bank — before things get worse.  New Yorkers delight in predictions of gloom, especially realtors.  The truth is that we had casually thought of selling our place anyway in the next few years, so we decided to make it showcase-ready just in case.

DH, God bless him, is half serious about moving, but I confess that for me this is just an excuse to redecorate.  What woman does not love feathering the nest?  So I have been talking to painters and floor refinishers and scouting for furniture bargains on Craigslist (lots of garage sales in the Financial District).  Even consulted with a contractor about possibly redoing the kitchen and bath.  We definitely have not kept up with the Joneses — there’s no stainless steel, granite or marble anywhere.  Believe it or not, our home has the original fittings it came with — pre-WW II.  (I kind of like antiques — that’s why I love my husband :))

Well, when I throw myself into something, I do it single-mindedly.  Too bad I can’t look at swatches and blog at the same time. 

The other thing I have been doing with a passion is de-cluttering.  You can’t afford to live in an apartment and  be a hoarder.  The good part of this is that I have been going through my papers and rereading some of the correspondence I’ve had with people I met through the blog.  I admit my heart skipped a beat every time I came across a letter from my late friend Hughie.  Dear sweet Hughie, the Scotsman with the silver tongue.  And so many others who became good friends.    

I admit that this has been the blessing of the Beast — it has enlarged and enriched my world in ways I never dreamed of.