I’m at that point when you’ve had too much coffee and not enough food that you find yourself in a strange, drugged-out fog. I was hoping for good news this morning (as I am every morning), when the first thing I do is look at my phone in hopes of an e-mail or missed call from my potential (and hopeful) new home. Nothing. I’ve been not-so-patiently waiting on an answer about my application being or not being approved for almost a month. As of right now, I am not truly sure where I will be living in 3 weeks. If you know me, you know that in general, I am a planner. Sure, I can be spontaneous when asked if I want to grab a drink last minute or pick up a friend who maybe had too many drinks, but when it’s a big deal, I like to know what to expect. The most frustrating part about the process is there is nothing I can do other than to wait, and if you haven’t gathered, I’m nearly the most impatient person on the planet. There are so many things going on that I need to be able to anticipate and mentally prepare for (Alana will be back for a few weeks, Dad’s birthday is coming up, moving in general). It has been such a frustrating and drawn out process, I’m really starting to feel the pressure of it all. I’m pretty sure my endurance is being tested here, I also like to give up when things get difficult, and I’m trying not to fail at it this time. I’ve spent the majority of the day hugging a pillow and indulging in a Gilmore Girls marathon.
Leila Marie 