Things are so strange all the time, everywhere. I feel like the world's going to hell in a hand basket. Faster and faster with each passing day.
- Lay-offs. I know it's everywhere, you can see it in the thinned traffic on the freeway and the shuttered businesses. It's heartbreaking. It makes no difference that you've been with an organization for 30 years—the government doesn't give peons severance benefits. Is anyone feeling secure in their jobs? I personally don't know anyone. The Hubster's even thought of his options. They generally involve leaving the country. Which makes me wonder about—
- Homebuying. In spite of the supposed glut of houses on the market, everything we offer on has multiple bids (one had 31 offers). The only one that didn't was a short sale on which we've heard nothing from the bank (Chase) in a month! So we're making another offer today on a rancher in Pinole. More on that later. Frankly, I'm too scared to buy a house right now, but Hubster is really caught up with it. Sometimes our priorities are so very different.
- Health. Even more heartbreaking than lay-offs, they go hand in hand, thanks to our lovely health insurance system. Those of us walking the razor's edge of treatment/functionality/hope have been doing it for quite awhile now. I'm heartened that we've hung on this long, but I can't help but wish for more. I've been luckier than most, so far, but feel horrifically insecure about everything—wellness, finances, relationships. I weep, hearing how my battle-scarred friends are doing (you know who you are). No matter what the circumstances or the brave face we wear, we feel alone and lonely in our fate. I don't think this condition can be helped. I try not to think of it too often, but it sneaks in there—putting me in my place, humbling me, pissing me off.
If it wasn't for the pain caused by lying in bed, I wouldn't be able to get up in the morning. So I guess pain is sometimes good for something. It's a reminder that we're still alive. Isn't that what they tell you in combat?