Have you ever gained a little bit of ground only to feel your foot sliding beneath you? Imagine carrying this heavy weight on your shoulders while going uphill and not being able to gain any traction. It’s precarious. It’s scary because you know that you can’t catch yourself. You’re flexing your hips, bending your knees, shifting every way you can think of that might keep you on your feet instead of on your back with that heavy weight coming down on top of you. Now imagine that you are in this same position with a Rottweiler racing towards you with his teeth bared. That’s close to how I feel right now.
I was going to title this entry “A Granny Panties kind of Day” when I thought about writing it yesterday, but that seemed kind of a TMI title (and it wasn’t Tuesday). The point of the title is that there are just some days when you want to be comfortable, supported, without anyone all up in your business. That’s what I call a granny panties kind of day. It’s not a boy shorts day where the bottom is just hanging out but the important bits are covered. It’s not a thong day where it covers only the really important things but still manages to be all up in your business. It’s not a string bikini day where everything’s covered but it’s all hanging by a thread. It’s a hi-cut, control top, only available in nude, black or white granny panties day. You’re just holding it all in, holding it all together as tightly as you can. Yes, that.
I feel the need to have a bit of melodrama at the moment. I went to clean out my car this morning, seeing it for the first time since the accident. It was a sight to behold. I wasn’t aware of how badly damaged it was. I knew that it was totaled because the airbags had deployed and various fluids were leaking, but I had no idea that it looked that bad. Seeing the airbags, front end damage, and buckling on the side, it just makes me grateful my car is not made of plastic. Seriously. Someone at my church told me a story about being involved in a business where they had to stick a promotional magnet on the side of their cars. Another person she knew said their magnet kept sliding down because the doors weren’t actually metal. o_O Anyway, the other person’s insurance company will be taking my car today or tomorrow to their own facility while they determine liability and etc. We will see how long this takes to sort itself out.
Looking at my car, along with the gratitude I felt that my injuries weren’t worse and that my car held up well, I felt…disappointed. I had finally gained a small foothold on the financial mountain, a little bit of black in a blood red financial ledger, and I slipped. No, not slipped. I was pushed right off the side. Worse, I was pushed off on step one. You see, there was a well-developed plan in my head for finally securing a few things and moving forward. Step one: pay off car. Step Two: open a savings account and begin to save money for the future. Step Three: Meet w/ director of paralegal studies and map out a plan to be able to sit for the paralegal exam (ensuring work development/better opportunities). Step Four: Finish my book, and then begin focusing on my fiction works in production. Step Five: REALLY get this married or single thing nailed down. Take some time apart or whatever we have to do. I mean, I thought we had dealt with this already, but since it still wasn’t crystal clear…
That was the plan. But we know what happens to our plans. I am not surprised by this. I acknowledge that it could be worse. But that doesn’t mean it doesn’t suck right now. It’s still not fair that someone out celebrating a birthday with booze derailed what took me months, even years to line up. It’s really irritating, then, when people won’t let me have my moment. If you know me, you know that I love planning. Organization is my thing. I like to know what the plan is for going forward. I am not shy about asking for advice when I need/want it. I’m an optimistic person who naturally looks on the bright side; however, when there is no plan immediately at hand, let me have my moment. I don’t ask for advice while having my moment; I ask for some support and comfort. I don’t want a solution. I don’t need thong love; I want granny panty love. Is that too hard to understand? I’ll be back to boy shorts, thongs and the like eventually.