"Well, I have a doctor's appointment," he said.
"No, that's Monday."
"TODAY is Monday."
"No, today is Sunday!"
"Are you sure?"
"... well NOW I'm not!"
I've been trying to build a routine for myself. I get up in the morning. I eat breakfast and have some coffee, and make a list of the things I want/ need to do, like attend to Afterwords.io (which you should totally be reading, by the way), and then troll the job boards and find things to apply for, and write a blog post, and snuggle with Lizzie, who inevitably wants to be in my lap, gnawing on the edge of my computer.
It's the afternoons that get long and start to blend together.
A word about looking for jobs: nothing will ever make you feel like you've chosen poorly in life like trying to find a job, because everything that's going to be posted? Is something you are in no way qualified for. In retrospect? Majoring in English was not, perhaps, the smartest thing I ever did.
Hindsight. It's a bitch.
So. The list completed, I begin to look for other things to do to fill the time. I play video games. I clean. I make candy (because now I'm obsessed with that). We had a Firefly marathon. I drink far too much Diet Coke. I've been rereading old Nora Roberts books because they all have happy endings and I need that in my life right now.
And I worry. I try not to, but it's always in the back of my mind, a mouse gnawing away at any semblance of peace I am able to find. I will be engrossed in my book and it pops up: rent? Health insurance? Your meds are going to run out, you know... and then it scurries away. I can be laughing at something that happens during a movie and it runs out whispering, "You have bills and no income" and then it dashes back behind a corner. It's worst when I'm trying to sleep, because then it can have a party. An "everything is wrong, you are wrong, you are stupid and everything is going to fall apart" party.
I don't believe the worry, mostly. I think worry likes to band together with depression and anxiety and they sing a song of lies, but ...
But I don't know what's going to happen. And it IS worrisome. So I snuggle down under the covers and try not to listen, but their chorus is very loud.
So I am very tired.
And the days pass, all looking like each other, until I can't remember exactly what day it is. It's just another day on the roundabout, looking for and not finding my turnoff.
I believe it will come. I believe.
I need it to come soon.