A Welcome Break

So, after working all weekend and week, not getting to bed before 11:30 every night, finishing up my freelance assignment, dropping another $200 on the car, babysitting the monster, "kicking ass" (so said my boss) in my meeting yesterday morning and laying on the couch all last night with a splitting headache while Hubs worked late at the hospital, I have decided to take this morning off. I was in desperate need of sleep and just one moment to sit and think about nothing in particular.

God knows that I definitely don't want to think about the future. Things are too up in the air, too close to going exactly the way that I wanted them to go. And that part is really scary.

Being so close to having what you've been dreaming about for the past year and yet having no control over what happens next.

I need an interview and the only thing I have to rely on to get that interview is a few pieces of paper.

That's it.

That's scary.

I am so conflicted.
Part of me is counting down the days til the big move, so ready for a change, so ready to start something brand new with Hubs.
The other part of me is worried, discouraged by the moving process and wondering where in the world I am going to fit in the Wild State.
I'm worried about being lonely while Hubs studies his life away.
I've lived for nearly a year here in this city without any girlfriends (AND IT SUCKS) but at least I have had Hubs almost every time that I wanted him.
What am I going to have up there?

My alienation is really my own fault. I could call up any number of my girlfriends that live at the closest 2 hours away, but I have some strange physical and mental block when it comes to talking on the phone. I just don't do it. I forget to return calls or to even call in general. I'm not a phone talker. I want you to physically be with me. That's where I connect. (Yes, this is a totally lame cop-out, because I'm the worst friend ever.) Because I have some great friends. Friends like Hannah who will drive 2 hours just to hang out with me all day and make me laugh. Friends like Margaret who sends the best presents ever like the package of cosmopolitan ingredients and a gift card to the movies, so that I can feel like I have a girlfriend with me as I drag Hubs to see SATC2. I think I'm going to cry. No really. I think I am. I don't deserve any of that.

Anyways, I have been looking at Hubs' future fellow students a lot on facebook, scoping out potential new friends, and that had me even more worried.

There are so many varied ages among the students and their SOs. Its like half of them are married with children while the other half are fresh out of undergrad and read to par-tay.
You see, I'm stuck somewhere there in the middle.
And some of the people just seem so... OUT there. Like really out there. Like they are in bike gangs together and the guys wear girl jeans and they are OVER 25. Yeah..
I keep telling Hubs, "Dude, you are going to be the squarest person in your class."
Its true. He shall see.
I don't think I'm a square. I've always been told that I am just "freee." Whatever that means.
I think that I probably look like a square, but I've got way too volatile of a tongue to be one.
I guess what this boils down to is that I am extremely shallow, and yes, I do judge a book by its cover. So shoot me! And sign me up for the squares!

I digress. Back to my worries.

I'm not whining. I'm truly worried (remember, I'm a worrier).

And right now, I am scanning our crappy little apartment from my perch on our couch with its ugly supposed-to-be-navy-but-it-looks-purple slipcover and trying to picture everything packed up in cardboard.

Is there a 12 step program for packing?
How about one for making friends?
What about one for curing my inability to use a phone correctly?
There must be one for my extreme shallowness and quick-to-judge mentality.
Help?

Ok, I need to get off the couch now. Productivity is my friend.

Sorry for the Debbie Downer post. I have been fooling myself and you, my dear readers, for the past two weeks with photos and cheap talk. I apologize for submitting you all to my ridiculousness (as Hubs would call it).

Here. You're distracted:
We call this the high-dive tuck. Excellent form, Panther.