Anxiety is weird

Two things:

  1. I’m attempting to get a new job two states away. It would be AWESOME.
  2. I’m anxious…that horrible gut wrenching kind where it feels like the world is ending.

One would think these two things were related.  But they aren’t, not really.  I’m not anxious about the job or starting out someplace new or anything like that.

I’m anxious about getting my damn couch out of my apartment.

You see, my couch is 92 inches.  The ceiling is 90. When the furniture guys brought it in I thought it was going to be permanently stuck in the doorway.  And apparently my brain thinks, that out of everything else that is going on in my life, that this damn couch has to make me panic.

Anxiety is weird.

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