I was late to work today. I stayed out drinking all night before. That’s how the story goes at least. I definitely didn’t go home early and spend half the night in shock, staring at the ceiling. There was no tossing, turning, or vomiting of any kind. My capricious joy about moving to a new city is certainly not a front for the scalding ulcer of self-doubt and insecurity festering underneath my heart. Sad truth is, it doesn’t matter. I was late, that’s not good.

I have to get my shit together. For some reason, I have to make it look easy or everyone loses faith and the whole thing shatters.  Even though it’s not easy.  Not even the fun parts. In my defense, I work well under pressure and two weeks is a long fucking time. I don’t know what the future holds and I’m not straining my neck to see. I’m right here, one day at a time. A Course in Miracles starts with just being.

Tomorrow, I book flights, make vet appointments and cancel my internet service. That sets the timeline. By this time next month, I should be in Seattle with two pissed-off cats.