Lately, I have been just excessively anxious. (Also yes I know it's been almost two months so sue me I don't give a shit.) I went to visit Hunter over the weekend and he brought two of his dogs down with him to pick me up. I was really concerned that they would run away or get eaten by something (really? yes. really.) in my backyard if he didn't "supervise" them.
On the drive back, I spent some time worrying that they would jump out the car windows and die. I worried that we would crash and the airbags would crush them. When we stopped and Penny ran off into a field with Hunter chasing her into the "NO TRESPASSING area," I worried that the person who lived there would get home and yell at me (waiting by the car, scolding Iggy for orchestrating the whole thing) for being in his driveway. I worried that Hunter wouldn't be able to find her. I worried that (oh, yes) she would upset a cow, who would kick/stomp on her and kill her. He got her, though, don't you guys worry. Anyway, after that, on the drive, I kept worrying that we would hit a deer or something and, again, that airbags+dogs=sticky mess thing. Oh, but I added a worry that Peabody, their third and oldest dog, would have died outside by the time we got there (and it would be my fault because if not for me then she wouldn't have been stuck outside all day).
On the third, we went to a little party thing at some friend of Hunter's from high school (John invited us) where there were fireworks. While all the older (i.e. our-age) people were setting off their illegal (i.e. neato) fireworks, I was on the porch worrying about what I would do if something went wrong--if someone out there got burned, if a firework tipped over (?) and shot directly (?) at the house (?), if the hot metal bits hit me in the eye (?) while I was looking up, if the house caught fire from the hot metal bits, if the woods caught fire, if the grass caught fire, if--I think you get my drift here.
On the fourth, it stormed, and we happened to be outside playing with the dogs. I worried, completely inexplicably, that we would get hit by lightning in Hunter's front yard. Because "we're the tallest things here! we should be closer to the ground. maybe crouching? that makes us less likely to get struck. maybe we should go inside." I'm not joking.
These are not things that I really think are going to happen, of course. I have SOME realism left in me, after all. But these are things I am basically completely terrified of. I kind of wish I had more of the traditional OCD symptoms--namely the routines, because those are supposed to protect you from all these bad things happening, right? If I do _____, then my family will be safe from _____, right? I'm sure it doesn't work like that, of course. I'm sure the routines and all that only add to the anxiety. But it's a thought.
Anyway. Other than that I'm having a pretty good summer. I'm working at Little Caesar's, mainly as a cashier, and I even kind of like my job, so that's good. My boss is super-gay and awesome, and today he pointed out a customer to me as "marrying material." I said, "But will he do my cleaning for me?" That's right, suckers, I have a job where sass is practically mandatory. (Despite liking my job, I still have a lot of anxiety around that, too, don't worry. Nothing is sacred; nothing is safe.) And I've done a good bit of knitting, and I sit around a lot, so that's awesome.
I think that's going to be my whole summer what's up post, because I'm fucking exhausted and don't know why I'm awake at all.
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