Just ran across an obituary for a friend I ran around with in college. She died last year and I missed it completely. She was only 53. I’ve sent a FB message to her sister in the hope that she might tell me what happened to my friend. Sucks.
This has put me in a morbid mood, naturally. I don’t normally think about death much, I just try to live my life the best I can and not worry about it. But days like this when it’s shoved in my face, well, days like this I brood.
I’m 47. While I have a broad skillset and a couple of degrees, I still feel that I’ve accomplished little. I have a lot riding on this move of ours. What if it doesn’t pan out? It’s true, life is what happens while you’re making other plans. All I know is I’ve got to REALLY do something severe to get out of this mile deep rut.
If I died tomorrow, what would I leave behind? Umm. Some websites? This blog, certainly. It’s all electronic. I mean, I’ve got stuff, too, but this blog is really the essence of me. I’ve ranted. I’ve complained. I’ve celebrated. I’ve tried very hard to document what my life has been here.
I have to tell my parents that we are planning to move to AZ. They are old and infirm. They won’t do anything to save themselves. I can’t help them, but I still feel guilty about moving so far away. I’m sure my brother will have a conniption. Or not. It’s hard to tell with any of them. They have so much disdain for me, I can’t imagine it getting any worse. It’s not like they ever contact me, so I don’t see much difference between my being 200 miles away or 2000. But still.
I’m trying so hard to not hinge all my hopes on this move. But, hell, what else do I have? I’m done here. The house is gone, I’m sick of this ghetto ass town, I’m very, very bored. I want very much to have something to get up for in the morning. Learning a new town, getting a p/t job, setting up a new house and all of that is very appealing.
Of course I worry about my elderly cats. I think the plan of renting an RV to make the trek is a good one. They won’t like it, but it is easier on them than flying. Last time I moved (about 3 miles) my elderly cat Dickens didn’t make it. So, I’m anxious about DJ (15) and Missy (12-15). They are in good health, but I still worry.
I’m probably more anxious about all this than I’ve ever been about anything. When I moved down here, I was 23 years old! I had no fear! But this time, I’m older and wiser and have much trepidation. I’m giving up a VERY comfortable life (that is killing me) for complete and utter chaos (which will save me? I hope?).
Blah, I don’t even know what I’m rambling about. All I know is that I’m getting old enough to start seeing friends die and I’ve got fewer days ahead than behind. It’s scary, but it also makes me more determined to DO SOMETHING before I die.
Allons-y!