Signs of Life (and Slightly Less Swearing)

I am going to attempt an upbeat post today. Bear with me. I’m a little out of practice.

Here is what I can report: Luke came. Luke delivered. The powerpoints are done — we are almost completely electrically sorted, which is the kind of sentence that sounds mundane until you have been living without it being true, at which point it is frankly cause for celebration.

And the internet.

Oh, the internet.

I will not dwell on the full experience because some of it is not fit for a family blog, but I will say this: three hours on the phone with Telstra, four — four — factory resets of the modem, and a sustained act of collective human will later, we appear to have stable internet. I am using the word appears deliberately and with full awareness of my own trauma. I am cautiously optimistic in the way that you are cautiously optimistic about something that has betrayed you repeatedly and at the worst possible moments. But right now, in this moment, it is working, and I am choosing to accept that as a win.

Which means that tomorrow I might — might — be able to wrap my head around the websites. Which I need to do because, as it turns out, it is four days until my very first book is live in the world.

Four days.

I would like to tell you I am handling this with grace and equanimity. I would like to tell you that. What is actually happening is that I am cycling between cranky and stressed, gleeful and nervous, sometimes all four in the same ten minutes, with no predictable pattern and very little warning. The cats have noticed. They are keeping a respectful distance, which honestly shows good judgement on their part.

Four days.

We’ll see how that whole shenanigan goes.

🖤 🏒

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Author: Suzy

Suzy writes from a quiet corner of rural Tasmania, in a 120-year-old station house that has seen more stories than most people ever will. Surrounded by books, cats, and an ever-growing list of ideas, she spends her time building fictional worlds filled with complicated people, found family, and relationships that don’t always fit neatly into a box. She writes under multiple pen names, exploring everything from hockey romance to military stories, magical realism, and fantasy—each one connected by the same emotional thread: people trying to find where they belong. Her personal blog, Life at the Station House, is where she steps out from behind the pen names. Here, she writes about the quieter side of life—rural living, creativity, community, and the moments in between writing sessions that matter just as much as the stories themselves. When she’s not writing, she’s likely tending to her garden, thinking about her next project, or sitting with a coffee while her mind runs a little too fast and a little too unfiltered.

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