They put the tea on because they know you’re on your way. You grab your jacket, I wait by the door. Before you go, can you show me where I look to turn the breaker back on if we run the blow dryers at the same time again? And quickly show me where we keep the lightbulbs? Does this picture frame need a screw or will a nail do? Do you think if I move the clothes out of it you could take my old dresser out of the closet? You don’t have time for all this but I continue; When is it time to change my tires? How do I make sure the hoses won’t freeze up in the winter? What if the bank calls and tells me I can increase my credit limit, should I do it? Can you quickly explain to me why the democrats want to get rid of fracking? And also what is fracking? Do you think I’m on the right career path? Should I be investing part of my paycheque? What is that noise coming from the furnace? Can you check it out I can’t sleep if it’s clicking all night? You sit patiently with me, I know you have to ...
There I was, standing with a forty pound backpack on my back, in a bus full of people, hotter than I’ve ever been in my entire life, thinking about how I used to get nervous on travel days. (I promise this isn’t about Europe, keep reading.) Something about packing the bag up and being at the bus stop on time and blah blah blah always made me anxious to even think about. But this was my 19th public transportation since we’d arrived in Europe and I was finally used to the feeling. When I start to worry, I ask myself what’s the worst thing that could happen? And then I count backwards down to a realistic situation. 1. I’m not going to die. 2. I’m not going to lose all my money. 3. I’m not going to get hurt. 4. I’m not going to get lost because I have all the tools I need to navigate what I’m doing. And then the worst thing that could happen would be like, missing the bus and waiting 30 minutes for the next one. And it doesn’t seem so scary that way. Back in the sweaty bus, I sat ther...