I am so glad I got to see my counselor on the same day that my water went away. It was not an emergency session, it happened to be one already scheduled. I think that is great how that worked out. I had been sort of bummed to be back to once a week sessions, but not anymore. I know that things happen for a reason, and if I had not been back to once a week sessions it is possible I might not have seen her the same week I had a huge anxiety problem.
Part of my anxiety on that day came from the fact that in my effort to pack things up to go to my grandmother’s house, I was also packing several food items. I had to pack them because with no water I could not really cook them here, and food is just too expensive to let it go to waste sitting in my fridge. Especially, when I know grandma enjoys my cooking. When I got to my grandma’s house, I realized I had left a roast sitting out on the counter. Which meant, that in my frazzled state, I became more frazzled and had to go back to my house, forgetting my house key, and break into my own home to rescue the poor, forgotten roast. Then before I was to leave grandma’s and go to my counseling session, I realized that I had forgotten my restless leg medicine sitting where it always does in the living room. I had two choices at that point. I could either 1. get the medicine and then rush to the counselor’s office for my appointment and be even more frazzled when I got there, or 2. I could get the medicine after the counseling session when I could take my time. The problem with choice number two is that by that time I was so out of sorts that I knew I would sit through my session with a worry in the back of my mind about getting that medicine. An unnecessary worry, because I knew that I would be able to get that medicine after the session, but when I am in that state my worries rarely make any sense. I went with choice number two, so I would not run the risk of being late for my appointment.
I told my counselor all the things that were causing me to feel like I was coming un-glued around the edges. She had a very simple, but for me difficult, solution. What she advised me to do, is that no matter how stress filled a situation is, if there are going to be things that I am going to have to remember, then I need to write them down. That way even when my brain is going in all directions I can still remember the things I need to. That is going to require me to actually sit down, be calm, and organize my thoughts during a time, when my natural reaction would be to run around like a crazy person chicken with its head cut off.
Now if I can only remember to get the notebook that is supposed to help me remember things.
Farrol came home and was able to fix the well pump. He said there had been a fire, but fortunately the breaker kicked off, which kept it from destroying the whole pump system. Of course about the time he was able to get out there and start working on the electrical unit, a nice thunder storm with loads of rain came through. The silly man kept working, and neither he or his assistant, Anna, were injured in the repair job. All of my worries about the hot water heater being destroyed or the part of the pump way down in the well being fried were completely unfounded.
Farrol believes the ants are at fault for the fire. Every year these rather large black ants try to move into the well house. I guess if I were an ant I would want to as well. It is protected from the elements, relatively cool, and damp, and most of the time there are no icky humans messing around in it. Maybe it is sort of the Summer vacation spot for ants.
There is a very good reason I have been mostly absent from my usual internet hang out spots. I was actually given not one but two freelance writing jobs. I was paid $25 for each assignment. That may not seem like big money to some of you, but for me it is. It was work I could do from home, so no gas was spent getting to my place of employment. The person who gave me the work is someone who has been a big, huge, enormous inspiration to me in even attempting to try my hand at freelance writing. Emcogneato is the one who trusted me enough to pass me the work, so I would appreciate if you would go spam leave her some comment love.
The money I made represents more than just money to me. It is the first money I have earned, all by myself (there was a church cleaning job, but my family helped with that) in fourteen years or more. It sort of represents a new beginning for me, part of a long line of new beginnings that have happened over the last year. I might have to get all sentimental and tacky and print out a copy of my paypal account and have it framed. That way the first money I ever made in my pajamas can be memorialized.