The Etc. Era, Eon, Age, etc.

Loft living day...27? Doesn't seem like that's a lot of days when I really think about it. And I really do think about it. Yet, as I've stated elsewhere on the internets, my world has once again returned to boxes. Life in boxes is a common theme if one moves around a lot, and it some ways it feels as though I've always been moving. Might sound romantic, but I don't see it that way. It's sad, actually. What does sound romantic, and a bit idealistic, and not sad, is the ol blank page now staring at me. The metaphorical blank page, that is. It can be a scary thing, especially if you thought you were working on something that had many filled pages, pages of adventure, love, building a life with someone, promising futures. To extend this semi cliche metaphor, because I love to extend things, especially metaphors about metaphors, a new chapter of my life begins--or rather, a whole new book. I hope it's a new book. One without the repeats of the last books, with new themes, and new successes, and overcoming, and etc. etc. etc. Loads of "etc."