Happy Weekending, peeps!
Thought I’d kick this much-needed weekend off with a little anecdote where a negative turned out positive, as I know I personally did some serious whining this past Mon through Fri.. it was a long one, what can I say? 🤦♀️
So without further ado…
Okay, duh. We should all be grateful for that every single day, but aside from the obvious… Anthony had to work late last night. And I mean super late. Like 2:30am late. And as I may have mentioned about 76 times yesterday, my purpose in life right now is to chauffeur the husby and knit my fingers into oblivion while binge-watching One Tree Hill, getting nostalgic about high school as though it were anything even remotely resembling Tree Hill High. (It wasn’t. I have no idea what I think I miss.) But if Anthony is working til 2:30 then it means yours truly is schlepping out to get him at 2:30. Which honestly isn’t a problem. I don’t mind driving, and I don’t mind being up late. The small issue however, is this
mild paranoia I have which stems from countless hours of the Investigation Discovery channel & SVU marathons & oh yeah, my Facebook newsfeed that alerts me of murder almost daily.
Our hotel is sketchy. I would even call it ghetto. It’s a weird combination of indoor and outdoor corridors. For some reason, I associate these hotels with danger. I don’t know, I just prefer indoor. But because of this, anytime I need to leave the room after dark, I may or may not pack the scissors I stole from Anthony & claimed as my knitting scissors. I do this at 5:30pm. So it probably doesn’t take too much imagination to guess how I felt about venturing out of our little pod-o-safety at 2-freaking-30am. 😅😅😅
Longng story short, my anxiety got the better of me. I all-but decided this was how I was destined to die, and it made me annoyed, and cranky, and bitchy and is it too much to ask to get one last weekend??! — My brain on Investgation Discovery. 🙃
So after giving anxiety free reign of my brain and being a wee bit bitchy to Anthony and probably unnecessarily rushing him, he was finally able to finish up his work for his deadline. It was time for me to make the dreaded walk down the two flights of stairs (the elevators are broken.. definitely not characteristic of a horror movie or anything) through the lobby, out the door and over to my car.
As it turns out, even creepers have a bedtime, and thankfully for me, 2:30am was long past theirs, and they were all tucked away for the night.
Anthony did encounter a weirdo on his walk to where I pick him up… another gallon of fuel for my already healthy bonfire of anxiety, but luckily he did not stop and let the guy “ask him a question,” and just kept walking right into the car. Phew.
We survived, guys! Who’da thought?! And anyone who is a paranoid hypochondriac and regularly assumes something horrible is going to happen definitely understands that sweet, sweet relief when it doesn’t. It’s like getting a whole other chance at life, am I right? 😂
Happy Friday, friends! 😘