I am officially...
...tired (of the psych hospital...of the drive TO the psych hospital...of having a dirty house and no motivation nor energy to clean it).
...frustrated (the perfect job comes available for me and I can't take it because of my upcoming trip to the UK...and the fact that it doesn't carry benefits).
...lonely for Simon (it's now been over four months since I've seen him).
...achy (muscles I didn't know I had in my neck feel like concrete).
...ready for it to be January and the chips to fall where they may...ready to move to wherever, find a job wherever...just ready to be past all this bloody ridiculous and counter-productive waiting and anxiety. It's hard to get anything done when your emotions are so raw that you are quite literally reluctant to open your mouth for fear of either snapping or weeping. Most unattractive.
Oh, and just in case anyone is wondering, I know that I'll be leaving my family in the US to move to England, I know that the sign language is different there so I can't work, and I know that despite the fact that I'm clearly quite selfish I'm also positively rubbish at saving money for myself and we're most likely going to starve. Thanks for wanting to remind me, though. Seriously. The support means everything.
Hang on, my tongue seems to be lodged in my cheek. There, that's better.
I'm going to go crawl under my ratty old Ikea duvet and hide until 6:30am tomorrow when I get to do it all again. Hoo-friggin-rah.
The I Can't Even face. Y'all. How is it that things can go from zero to one hundred so fast when I'm not anywhere near where...
Granted, I have already published all of those books in the Proud Racer and Clobberpaws series about my dogs, but this little baby here is...
#nofilter #goodhairday Yep, that hashtag in the title means what you think it means. But that's not what I want to talk about today....