Good Enough

My daily efforts are a study in Good Enoughs.
Appearance in the morning? I shrug and say, Good Enough.
My reaction to work stress? Couple my already irritable nature with some serious hormones and if I don't cry, if I don't burst blood vessels in my eyes and if I don't break out into a furious sweat? Good Enough.

Work product.....well, I've been doing "good enoughs" for many a year now. What is astounding to me is that no one has noticed (not so they'd comment, at least) on the fact that I care so much less these days and I go above and beyond just about not at all anymore.

I got rebuked about my absence from posting, so obviously that is not good enough.

My (in)ability to quit smoking? Not good enough.
Exercising consisting of walking to the refrigerator or snack drawer? Not good enough.

I haven't packed - closing date is July 18th, we have a signed agreement, yah!!
I don't know where we're going, the escrow papers asked for a forwarding address today and it sent me into a panic.
What's the abbreviation for 1265 Nowhere To Go Street, Hyperventilating, CA?

I'm reading books like they're blood transfusions. I need to swarm my thoughts with the polished prose of others, calm me down. I don't do anything because the very act of starting something makes my throat constrict and my chest start to heave, because where do I start? How will I ever finish, where am I going to go? How do you fix a leaking instahot and how are we going to drive three cats for two days down to California when Lucy screams in the car unless I let her on my lap.

I remember moving from San Diego to Los Angeles. My ex-husband wouldn't let Lucy sit on my lap, and she cried and the drugs made her third eyelid stay permanently halfway over the surface of her eyes. She stumbled and fell, drugged but frantic, trying to get to me. I finally snapped at him, as he pulled her wailing away from me to just let go of her. Take your hands off of her. He let her go and she curled on my lap and passed out, exhausted. She didn't make a peep for the three hour drive. Because have you ever noticed that unless it is 2 in the morning, the trip from San Diego to LA takes forever and the traffic is miserable?

I found a photo album of my first year in college when I was home in Ohio this past weekend. I had forgotten so much about that year, but what I felt when I looked at the pictures was the PROMISE I felt that whole year. The sun and the ocean and the music and the people and the youth!

And inevitably I screwed up opportunities, I chose poorly and boxed myself into places that make my skin itch and my histamines freak, and now here I am, four months pregnant and nowhere to go and not sure if I'll have a job in a month.

Because being pregnant for the first time wasn't enough to think about. Not nearly enough to worry about.