| I woke up this morning with my stomach in a knot (no, not literally, it's a figure of speech). I remember I used to feel that way on the mornings of my equine competitions. I'd wake up about 45 minutes before I was supposed to, and mentally run through everything I'd need to do prior to the first event. Get to the stable by 5:30. Wrap my horse's legs for travel. Pack up all my equipment. Braid my horse's mane (I'd do it the night before, but he'd invariably roll/scratch/mess around and undo everything, anyway). Load him up and get to the show grounds by 7:30. Search out the show administrator and get my number and ride times. Tie my stupid stock tie (I never did get the hang of those things). Warm up for my dressage test/stadium jumping test/cross country test. I'd run all this stuff through my mind, worry about getting a flat/my horse refusing jumps/forgetting my dressage test/etc. etc. By the time I'd actually get to the stable, my nerves would be churning. Moving around and doing something would always help, but man, the wait between rides was killer. Anyway, I'm getting away from myself, here. This morning I woke up all nervy, but for the life of me I can't figure out where the anxiety is coming from. I've been feeling this way, off and on, for about a week. Are there weird vibes floating around or something? Work has been stupidly busy, but the project that's been causing me the most problems got off the ground on Tuesday, and everything else is just same shit, different day. The HIPFH(tm) looks like it's wrapping up nicely. The GC should be out of our hair by next week, the flooring is scheduled for completion, we have a plan laid out for us to finish painting, and the furniture's being delivered on the 21st. Money, while always a concern, isn't an issue. I balanced the checkbook yesterday (first try!) and re-looked at the remaining expenses for the HIPFH(tm), and it looks like we've got enough (just!) to cover everything. We've had problems with Michael lately, but we have a game plan for him and it's just a matter of executing to it. I'm taking the next three months off from school, and my final for my last class was last week (and went well), so there's no stress there. So where the hell is this anxiety coming from? It might be partly due to the state of my relationship with Calvin lately. Oh, there's nothing wrong, not at all. But our interaction has been more businesslike and less lover-like lately. Of course, we've been hugely busy. Which leads to distraction, and grumpiness, and teasing-that-isn't-really-teasing. As I type this, though, Calvin and I are sitting in bed, he reading the paper, me tappidy-tapping on the laptop. We're chatting and watching TV and messing around with the dogs, and everything's fine. But I still feel like I miss him, somehow. I know the lover-like interaction, and the romance, and the stolen moments of messing around like teenagers, they'll all come back again. This is just one of those cycles (imposed upon us by the HIPFH(tm) more than anything else) that all relationships go through. The ships-passing-in-the-night syndrome of bouncing around and off each other, connecting for short moments and then spinning off toward some other task or priority. Every now and then we pause and say to each other, "Gee, it'll be nice when things slow down and we can focus on *us* again!" But in the meantime, I miss the way our relationship used to be (and will be again). Am I dumb to worry about something when there really is no problem? At any rate, we're going to buy paint (have I mentioned how much I hate Home Depot?), and buy a bedframe for Marie, and repair drywall in prep for painting the house. My tailbones hurt because I went horseback riding yesterday (courtesy of AcronymCo). Geez, I used to be able to spend hours in the saddle (or bareback) doing all manner of messing around. Yesterday I spent one hour on one of those lame, guided, don't-get-out-of-line-and-stay-at-a-shuffling-WALK trailrides, and my ass feels like it's been beaten with the wooden paddle my mother used to keep around (labelled "For the bear behind", with a picture of a bear cub on it). Damn wussy, I am. Off to find the Advil... |