I have successfully moved to Iowa. But it is not a solution to every problem I face while trying to keep living for a while longer. I have got my extensive list of medical care needs transferred, mostly successfully, but I am still struggling with several important things.
Like the jester in the Paffooney, I have little control over the many strings I have to deal with in making the puppets work in my novel-writing projects. Arthritis hinders my fingers on the keyboard. I have lost my resistance to the power that ragweed pollen has over my lungs and sinuses. Too many Octobers in Texas have resensitized me to Iowa’s potent allergy-sufferer’s bane. Diabetes is out of control on some days now, too, for no apparent reason. Knight takes the king’s bishop and puts me in the hole. The Reaper grins at me across the chessboard.
I can’t change my current address on the Medicare website. I have to go through the Social Security Office to change it, and the federal government is shut down, so the Office is on unpaid vacation.
Queen takes King’s Rook. Oh no! I don’t actually have a legally written will.
But I have sold three books this month. So, maybe the game is not over yet.
Catch a Falling Star 