I have about a seven-day countdown for stress bombs. They consist of me spending the week building up a ton of stress about where we are going to move to. When? Can I look for housing? Can I apply for jobs? What about my current job? What if we are homeless for weeks or months? What if we can't afford it? What if hubby hates his new job? What if I hate my new job? What if it's New York?
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Yep. That is my brain. When I say seven-day countdown, I mean that every Friday I begin to stress-panic and start getting really intense with my hubby about this situation. He reminds me that while he didn't follow the typical timeline for this leg of his journey, look at all the great things he was able to do. It was a close call, folks. It was only by the graces and help of BSU faculty that he got his doctorate. In the midst of this stress, I have found solace in the strange mattress and box spring area of Bonneville Point. It gets weirder, yes.
This time, the mattress is gone and only the box spring remains. This time, it is propped up slightly with a large car speaker on top. There appears to have been a fire made under the box spring. Some bottles. I am fascinated yet again. This time, I stayed to paint. I struggled to get into the right headspace because my thoughts are truly just a jumbled mess. After I finished, I laid down and took a nap.
I awoke to the sounds of motorbikes. As I opened my eyes I realized one was right next to me! I turned around and someone drove up to me...but sped away very fast when I sat up.
Didn't acknowledge me. Didn't ask if I was okay. Didn't say hi. Didn't laugh. Just drove off.
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