I just can't sleep. I worry about the deep stuff that I can't control, and the stupid stuff that I can. Like all the damn drawers and cabinets that I should be cleaning out and I'm laying awake in my bed and first the clock says something like 1:39 a.m. so I get up to pee. Then around 2:30 a.m. I grab my cell phone on the side of the bed and write a FB post:
"Am still wondering if the very obvs tranvestite at the restaurant earlier opted for the andoillie (sp) sausage or the mahi mahi fish tacos?"
Then I'm still laying in bed and I tell myself, "OK, if the first number is a 3 by now, I will get up because come on, I can be getting some shit done." It is 3:03 a.m. So I figure I will get up and do some shit for 4 hours or something. Like blog. Or clean out a closet. Or I could watch that Madonna Glee episode I missed a couple of weeks ago. You know, some productive stuff.
I wish I could just pull out of my brain like a ticker tape all the stuff that's going through it. Like you wouldn't believe what's in there right now, some of it so stupid, like where am I going to put the stuff that is in the basement in the new house, even though the new house is bigger than this house, and also like, I wonder where I'm going to park my car in the new garage. And I wonder where that rug might go in the new house. Stupid stupid stupid shit. And then the serious scary shit that I can't even write down here because it is so scary I don't even like the thought that it runs through my head, and I have to remind myself of the church series that we had called FEARLESS and living without FEAR and I say my little prayer that I say when I am scared, "Lord, continue to wrap me in your loving arms." I say that one a lot.
I keep thinking, "OK, we have like how many real weeks left here?" Three? Three Sundays left practically? And am I even going to make it to church here again? Next week we will be with the in-laws. The next I am with my high school girl friends. The next one, May 23, we may make it. And the next, we start our new lives in Arizona. It's here. It's practically here. We've got 26 days till our lives take flight, literally. Mr. Manic made the one-way ticket reservations, perfectly, wonderfully, practically, ideally on our 17th anniversary. Absolutely fitting for the next chapter of our little family's life.
Trying to be FEARLESS.
It's a lot harder at 3:13 a.m. when you're wide awake. But mom, "I'm FINE!"