Moving during a pandemic with rose colored glasses on

[9/20/2025 Update: I have a lot to say about this post and I don't know that I'm in the correct headspace or have the appropriate capacity to say what needs to be said right now, but I'm gonna try.

It's incredible how quickly things can sour, in spite of all your best intentions. DK quit his job a few months after we moved here to pursue real estate because a) that was the healthiest thing for him at the time and b) my business had been doing really well for the previous 6 months and was on a staggering upward trajectory.

And then... the bottom fell out, as it did for so many of us who did shockingly well in 2020. For a lot of folks, the effects of the pandemic were immediate, so for the rest of us who didn't start to feel it until a year or more later (things got reallllly rough for us mid 2021), it felt like we were on an island because no one was really talking about it anymore (I would find out much later that a LOT more of us were having that experience than any of us realized and we were all ashamed to admit it in real time)

So much changed, so drastically, so quickly after this post that re-reading it today was a bit triggering for me.

It felt like a gut punch and like "I don't even recognize her".

I can't say I hate this house (hate is a strong word, but I really really really don't like it some days). It has met most all of our needs in our time here and I am so incredibly grateful for that. AND, because of the circumstances surrounding our time here (and the endless repairs that have had to be done just to make the house semi-functional for us) have made me nearly forget how excited I was to move here.

The entire experience is tainted.

We didn't make friends with many of the neighbors. We've had people over less than half a dozen times in as many years. I didn't decorate or paint the walls (until we started readying the house to sell, as is our pattern). All the plants have died. And my mental health has been in the most abysmal state I've seen for the majority of the time we've been here because the waves. just. keep. on. crashing. To the point that I actually started to believe that this land was cursed because no amount of smoke cleanses, prayer, or surrender has seemed to ease any of it up.

But ya know what else has happened? We survived here. We began breaking down barriers in our marriage here that had never previously been breached. We started truly dismantling and rebuilding. We did (are doing) the dirty work. We stopped drinking alcohol. We started prioritizing our bodies. DK started playing pickleball. I made walking a daily practice. We cried a lot. We laughed a LOT. We overcame countless obstacles. We conquered immeasurable challenges. We faced innumerable personal demons and gave them a good snuggle because they needed it. We triumphed over projects that felt like they would never end. We stood up for ourselves and each other. We stuck together, even when we really didn't fucking want to. We learned new skills. We leveraged old ones. We burned some bridges and built a whole bunch more. And we FINALLY started pouring into this community the way we always intended to just in time for us to get ready to move.

I don't recognize the woman who wrote that post, but I'm so happy for her because she really believed she had finally made it over the hump for good. She was wrong, but I'm grateful for that tiny slice of peace she got to experience for that period of time before life got even harder than it ever had.

I'm still fighting for her. I still believe she deserves sustainability & stability and I will die working to give that to her.

Also, I really fucking miss that realtor I mentioned. She passed away a few years ago and it absolutely crushed me. I considered her a friend and hoped she would be a mentor to me, but her health would not allow for that. She was a fountain of wisdom and joy and her presence lit up any space she entered. If you're watching from somewhere, Lyn, I love you. I hope I've made you proud in some way. Thank you for all the butterflies you've sent my way these past few months. They have not gone unnoticed and I always see them exactly when I need to, but you know that, huh?]

𝗪𝗲 𝗮𝗿𝗲 𝘂𝗻𝗱𝗲𝗿 𝗰𝗼𝗻𝘁𝗿𝗮𝗰𝘁!

𝘞𝘦 𝘳𝘦𝘤𝘦𝘪𝘷𝘦𝘥 𝘢𝘯 𝘦𝘮𝘢𝘪𝘭 𝘢𝘵 10:30𝘱𝘮 𝘦𝘯𝘵𝘪𝘵𝘭𝘦𝘥 “𝘾𝙤𝙣𝙜𝙧𝙖𝙩𝙪𝙡𝙖𝙩𝙞𝙤𝙣𝙨!” (𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘭𝘵𝘰𝘳 𝘪𝘴 𝘢 𝘣𝘦𝘢𝘴𝘵)

𝘛𝘩𝘰𝘴𝘦 𝘰𝘧 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘸𝘩𝘰 𝘬𝘯𝘰𝘸 𝘶𝘴 𝘸𝘦𝘭𝘭 𝘢𝘳𝘦 𝘱𝘳𝘰𝘣𝘢𝘣𝘭𝘺 𝘭𝘪𝘬𝘦 “𝘠𝘰𝘶’𝘳𝘦 𝘮𝘰𝘷𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘈𝘎𝘈𝘐𝘕?!?”

𝙔𝙚𝙨, 𝙬𝙚 𝙖𝙧𝙚.

𝘉𝘦𝘤𝘢𝘶𝘴𝘦 𝘪𝘵’𝘴 𝘸𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘮𝘢𝘬𝘦𝘴 𝘴𝘦𝘯𝘴𝘦 𝘧𝘰𝘳 𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘧𝘢𝘮𝘪𝘭𝘺.

𝘈𝘯𝘥 𝘧𝘰𝘳 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘧𝘪𝘳𝘴𝘵 𝘵𝘪𝘮𝘦, 𝘸𝘦’𝘳𝘦 𝘣𝘶𝘺𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘢 𝘩𝘰𝘮𝘦 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘤𝘩𝘦𝘤𝘬𝘴 𝘢𝘭𝘭 𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘣𝘰𝘹𝘦𝘴 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘧𝘰𝘳 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘧𝘪𝘳𝘴𝘵 𝘵𝘪𝘮𝘦 𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘳, 𝘋𝘢𝘷𝘪𝘥 𝘸𝘢𝘭𝘬𝘦𝘥 𝘰𝘶𝘵 𝘰𝘧 𝘴𝘢𝘺𝘪𝘯𝘨 “𝘐 𝘸𝘢𝘯𝘵 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘩𝘰𝘶𝘴𝘦.”



𝘛𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘸𝘪𝘭𝘭 𝘣𝘦 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘍𝘐𝘍𝘛𝘏 𝘩𝘰𝘮𝘦 𝘸𝘦’𝘷𝘦 𝘱𝘶𝘳𝘤𝘩𝘢𝘴𝘦𝘥 𝘪𝘯 𝘵𝘩𝘦 (𝘢𝘭𝘮𝘰𝘴𝘵) 𝘥𝘦𝘤𝘢𝘥𝘦 𝘸𝘦’𝘷𝘦 𝘣𝘦𝘦𝘯 𝘵𝘰𝘨𝘦𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘦𝘢𝘤𝘩 𝘵𝘪𝘮𝘦, 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘥𝘳𝘪𝘷𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘧𝘢𝘤𝘵𝘰𝘳𝘴 𝘸𝘦𝘳𝘦 :

“𝘋𝘰𝘦𝘴 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘮𝘦𝘦𝘵 𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘣𝘢𝘴𝘪𝘤 𝘯𝘦𝘦𝘥𝘴?”

“𝘞𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘥𝘰𝘦𝘴 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘳𝘦𝘴𝘢𝘭𝘦 𝘷𝘢𝘭𝘶𝘦 𝘭𝘰𝘰𝘬 𝘭𝘪𝘬𝘦?”

𝘞𝘦 𝘣𝘰𝘶𝘨𝘩𝘵 𝘦𝘢𝘤𝘩 𝘩𝘰𝘮𝘦 𝘢𝘭𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘥𝘺 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘬𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘢𝘣𝘰𝘶𝘵 𝘴𝘦𝘭𝘭𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘪𝘵 🙀

𝘛𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘩𝘰𝘮𝘦 𝘸𝘢𝘴 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘧𝘪𝘳𝘴𝘵 𝘩𝘰𝘮𝘦 𝘐 𝘨𝘰𝘵 𝘦𝘮𝘰𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯𝘢𝘭 𝘰𝘷𝘦𝘳 𝘥𝘳𝘪𝘷𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘵𝘩𝘳𝘰𝘶𝘨𝘩 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘯𝘦𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘣𝘰𝘳𝘩𝘰𝘰𝘥 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘴𝘦𝘦𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘢𝘭𝘭 𝘵𝘩𝘦 “𝘊𝘰𝘯𝘨𝘳𝘢𝘵𝘴 𝘎𝘳𝘢𝘥𝘴!” 𝘴𝘪𝘨𝘯𝘴 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘬𝘪𝘯𝘨 “𝘖𝘶𝘳 𝘬𝘪𝘥𝘴 𝘤𝘰𝘶𝘭𝘥 𝘨𝘳𝘢𝘥𝘶𝘢𝘵𝘦 𝘩𝘪𝘨𝘩 𝘴𝘤𝘩𝘰𝘰𝘭 𝘩𝘦𝘳𝘦.” 😭

𝘐 𝘓𝘖𝘝𝘌 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘩𝘰𝘶𝘴𝘦. 𝘐𝘵 𝘪𝘴𝘯’𝘵 𝘱𝘦𝘳𝘧𝘦𝘤𝘵. 𝘈𝘯𝘥 𝘩𝘰𝘯𝘦𝘴𝘵𝘭𝘺, 𝘪𝘵 𝘪𝘴𝘯’𝘵 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘩𝘰𝘶𝘴𝘦 𝘢𝘵 𝘢𝘭𝘭.

𝘐𝘵’𝘴 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘱𝘭𝘢𝘤𝘦 𝘸𝘦’𝘳𝘦 𝘪𝘯 𝘯𝘰𝘸.

𝙏𝙝𝙚 𝙥𝙡𝙖𝙘𝙚 𝙄 𝙖𝙢 𝙞𝙣.

𝘔𝘦𝘯𝘵𝘢𝘭𝘭𝘺.

𝘌𝘮𝘰𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯𝘢𝘭𝘭𝘺.

𝘗𝘩𝘺𝘴𝘪𝘤𝘢𝘭𝘭𝘺.

𝘚𝘱𝘪𝘳𝘪𝘵𝘶𝘢𝘭𝘭𝘺.

𝘐 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘬 𝘱𝘢𝘳𝘵 𝘰𝘧 𝘮𝘦 𝘯𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘳 𝘸𝘢𝘯𝘵𝘦𝘥 𝘵𝘰 𝘵𝘢𝘬𝘦 𝘳𝘰𝘰𝘵 𝘢𝘯𝘺𝘸𝘩𝘦𝘳𝘦 𝘣𝘦𝘤𝘢𝘶𝘴𝘦 𝘐 𝘥𝘪𝘥𝘯’𝘵 𝘧𝘦𝘦𝘭 𝘭𝘪𝘬𝘦 𝘐 𝘥𝘦𝘴𝘦𝘳𝘷𝘦𝘥 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘴𝘵𝘢𝘣𝘪𝘭𝘪𝘵𝘺.

𝘖𝘳 𝘐 𝘥𝘪𝘥𝘯’𝘵 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘬 𝘪𝘵 𝘸𝘢𝘴 𝘱𝘰𝘴𝘴𝘪𝘣𝘭𝘦 𝘧𝘰𝘳 𝘮𝘦?

𝘐 𝘧𝘦𝘭𝘵 𝘭𝘪𝘬𝘦 𝘐 𝘢𝘭𝘸𝘢𝘺𝘴 𝘯𝘦𝘦𝘥𝘦𝘥 𝘵𝘰 𝘣𝘦 𝘸𝘰𝘳𝘬𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘵𝘰𝘸𝘢𝘳𝘥 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘯𝘦𝘹𝘵 𝘣𝘪𝘨 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘨.

𝘕𝘰𝘸 𝘐 𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘭𝘪𝘻𝘦 𝘵𝘩𝘦 “𝘕𝘦𝘹𝘵 𝘉𝘪𝘨 𝘛𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘨” 𝘪𝘴 𝘢𝘭𝘸𝘢𝘺𝘴 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘯 𝘮𝘦. 🤯

𝘐 𝘤𝘢𝘯 𝘣𝘦 𝘢𝘯𝘺𝘸𝘩𝘦𝘳𝘦 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘤𝘰𝘯𝘵𝘪𝘯𝘶𝘦 𝘵𝘰 𝘨𝘳𝘰𝘸 𝘪𝘯𝘵𝘦𝘳𝘯𝘢𝘭𝘭𝘺 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘩𝘦𝘭𝘱 𝘰𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘳𝘴 𝘦𝘹𝘵𝘦𝘳𝘯𝘢𝘭𝘭𝘺.

𝘉𝘶𝘵 𝘸𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘐 𝘯𝘦𝘦𝘥 𝘯𝘰𝘸 𝘪𝘯 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘴𝘵𝘢𝘨𝘦 𝘰𝘧 𝘮𝘺 𝘭𝘪𝘧𝘦 𝘪𝘴 𝘢 𝙨𝙖𝙛𝙚 𝙝𝙖𝙫𝙚𝙣. (𝘈𝘯𝘥 𝘧𝘢𝘴𝘵 𝘐𝘯𝘵𝘦𝘳𝘯𝘦𝘵 😜)

𝘐 𝘸𝘪𝘭𝘭 𝘧𝘪𝘭𝘭 𝘪𝘵 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩 𝘱𝘭𝘢𝘯𝘵𝘴 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘳𝘦𝘤𝘭𝘢𝘪𝘮𝘦𝘥 𝘣𝘢𝘳𝘯 𝘸𝘰𝘰𝘥 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘓𝘖𝘝𝘌 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘐’𝘭𝘭 𝘥𝘰 𝘢𝘭𝘭 𝘰𝘧 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘭𝘪𝘵𝘵𝘭𝘦 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘨𝘴

𝘐’𝘷𝘦 𝘯𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘳 𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘭𝘭𝘺 𝘵𝘢𝘬𝘦𝘯 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘵𝘪𝘮𝘦 𝘵𝘰 𝘥𝘰 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩 𝘢𝘯𝘺 𝘰𝘧 𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘰𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘩𝘰𝘮𝘦𝘴 𝘣𝘦𝘤𝘢𝘶𝘴𝘦 𝘯𝘰𝘣𝘰𝘥𝘺 𝘸𝘢𝘯𝘵𝘴 𝘵𝘰 𝘪𝘯𝘷𝘦𝘴𝘵 𝘴𝘸𝘦𝘢𝘵 𝘦𝘲𝘶𝘪𝘵𝘺 𝘪𝘯 𝘵𝘰 𝘢 𝘩𝘰𝘮𝘦 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘺 𝘱𝘭𝘢𝘯 𝘵𝘰 𝘴𝘦𝘭𝘭 𝘪𝘯 𝘢 𝘧𝘦𝘸 𝘺𝘦𝘢𝘳𝘴.

𝘐’𝘭𝘭 𝘪𝘯𝘷𝘪𝘵𝘦 𝘰𝘷𝘦𝘳 𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘳𝘺 𝘯𝘦𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘣𝘰𝘳 𝘸𝘩𝘰 𝘸𝘢𝘷𝘦𝘴 𝘢𝘵 𝘮𝘦 𝘸𝘩𝘦𝘯 𝘐 𝘥𝘳𝘪𝘷𝘦 𝘣𝘺 (𝘸𝘩𝘦𝘯 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵’𝘴 𝘴𝘢𝘧𝘦 𝘢𝘨𝘢𝘪𝘯 😭) 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘩𝘰𝘮𝘦 𝘸𝘪𝘭𝘭 𝘣𝘦 𝘧𝘪𝘭𝘭𝘦𝘥 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩 𝘮𝘦𝘮𝘰𝘳𝘪𝘦𝘴 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘯𝘰𝘵 𝘢𝘯𝘹𝘪𝘦𝘵𝘺 𝘰𝘷𝘦𝘳 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘧𝘶𝘵𝘶𝘳𝘦.

𝘽𝙚𝙘𝙖𝙪𝙨𝙚 𝙩𝙝𝙖𝙩’𝙨 𝙬𝙝𝙖𝙩 𝙬𝙤𝙧𝙠𝙞𝙣𝙜 𝙩𝙝𝙧𝙤𝙪𝙜𝙝 𝙮𝙤𝙪𝙧 𝙢𝙚𝙣𝙩𝙖𝙡 𝙗𝙡𝙤𝙘𝙠𝙨 𝙘𝙖𝙣 𝙙𝙤 𝙛𝙤𝙧 𝙮𝙤𝙪.

𝘍𝘰𝘳 𝘮𝘦, 𝘢 𝘭𝘰𝘵 𝘰𝘧 𝘮𝘺 𝘥𝘦𝘤𝘪𝘴𝘪𝘰𝘯𝘴 𝘢𝘴 𝘢𝘯 𝘢𝘥𝘶𝘭𝘵 𝘩𝘢𝘷𝘦 𝘣𝘦𝘦𝘯 𝘳𝘰𝘰𝘵𝘦𝘥 𝘪𝘯 𝘢 𝘥𝘦𝘦𝘱 𝘴𝘦𝘯𝘴𝘦 𝘰𝘧 𝘴𝘤𝘢𝘳𝘤𝘪𝘵𝘺. 𝘐𝘯 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘪𝘥𝘦𝘢 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘸𝘦 𝘤𝘢𝘯’𝘵 𝘨𝘦𝘵 𝘵𝘰𝘰 𝘤𝘰𝘮𝘧𝘰𝘳𝘵𝘢𝘣𝘭𝘦 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩 𝘢𝘯𝘺𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘣𝘦𝘤𝘢𝘶𝘴𝘦 𝘪𝘵 𝘤𝘢𝘯 𝘨𝘰 𝘢𝘸𝘢𝘺 𝘢𝘵 𝘢𝘯𝘺 𝘵𝘪𝘮𝘦.

𝘞𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘐’𝘷𝘦 𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘭𝘪𝘻𝘦𝘥 𝘪𝘴 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘵𝘳𝘶𝘦 𝘢𝘣𝘶𝘯𝘥𝘢𝘯𝘤𝘦, 𝘵𝘳𝘶𝘦 𝘧𝘳𝘦𝘦𝘥𝘰𝘮 𝘪𝘴 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘶𝘯𝘥𝘦𝘳𝘴𝘵𝘢𝘯𝘥𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘮𝘰𝘯𝘦𝘺 𝘥𝘰𝘦𝘴𝘯’𝘵 𝘩𝘢𝘷𝘦 𝘵𝘰 𝘣𝘦 𝘩𝘢𝘳𝘥.

𝘞𝘦 𝘥𝘰𝘯’𝘵 𝘩𝘢𝘷𝘦 𝘵𝘰 𝘰𝘷𝘦𝘳𝘤𝘰𝘮𝘱𝘭𝘪𝘤𝘢𝘵𝘦 𝘪𝘵.

𝘞𝘦 𝘥𝘰𝘯’𝘵 𝘩𝘢𝘷𝘦 𝘵𝘰 𝘭𝘪𝘷𝘦 𝘪𝘯 𝘢 𝘤𝘰𝘯𝘴𝘵𝘢𝘯𝘵 𝘴𝘵𝘢𝘵𝘦 𝘰𝘧 𝘸𝘰𝘳𝘳𝘺 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘪𝘵 𝘸𝘪𝘭𝘭 𝘫𝘶𝘴𝘵 𝘨𝘰 𝘢𝘸𝘢𝘺 𝘪𝘧 𝘸𝘦’𝘳𝘦 𝘯𝘰𝘵 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘬𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘢𝘣𝘰𝘶𝘵 𝘪𝘵.

𝙈𝙤𝙣𝙚𝙮 𝙞𝙨 𝙣𝙤𝙩 𝙖 𝙡𝙞𝙫𝙞𝙣𝙜 𝙗𝙚𝙞𝙣𝙜. 𝘐𝘵 𝘥𝘰𝘦𝘴 𝘯𝘰𝘵 𝘳𝘦𝘲𝘶𝘪𝘳𝘦 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘢𝘵𝘵𝘦𝘯𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯 𝘸𝘦 𝘨𝘪𝘷𝘦 𝘪𝘵 𝘪𝘯 𝘰𝘳𝘥𝘦𝘳 𝘵𝘰 𝘴𝘵𝘪𝘤𝘬 𝘢𝘳𝘰𝘶𝘯𝘥.

𝘞𝘩𝘦𝘯 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘧𝘰𝘤𝘶𝘴 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘢𝘵𝘵𝘦𝘯𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯 𝘰𝘯 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘱𝘦𝘳𝘴𝘰𝘯𝘢𝘭 𝘨𝘳𝘰𝘸𝘵𝘩 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘩𝘢𝘱𝘱𝘪𝘯𝘦𝘴𝘴 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘰𝘯 𝘣𝘦𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘸𝘩𝘰 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘸𝘦𝘳𝘦 𝘮𝘦𝘢𝘯𝘵 𝘵𝘰 𝘮𝘦, 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘮𝘰𝘯𝘦𝘺 𝘫𝘶𝘴𝘵 𝘤𝘰𝘮𝘦𝘴.

𝗠𝗼𝗻𝗲𝘆 𝗶𝘀 𝗻𝗼𝘁 𝗴𝗼𝗼𝗱 𝗼𝗿 𝗲𝘃𝗶𝗹. 𝗜𝘁 𝗷𝘂𝘀𝘁 𝗶𝘀.

𝗜𝘁 𝗶𝘀 𝗮 𝘃𝗲𝗵𝗶𝗰𝗹𝗲. 𝗪𝗲 𝗮𝗿𝗲 𝘁𝗵𝗲 𝗱𝗿𝗶𝘃𝗲𝗿𝘀.

𝗜𝘁’𝘀 𝘁𝗶𝗺𝗲 𝘁𝗼 𝘀𝘁𝗼𝗽 𝗹𝗲𝘁𝘁𝗶𝗻𝗴 𝗺𝗼𝗻𝗲𝘆 𝗱𝗿𝗶𝘃𝗲.