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Under Pressure

December 7, 2011

Last night I had a dream that Alex (my moving buddy/roomie) and I were murdered by an erupting volcano.

This has been my dinner the last two nights, because it’s all I can afford to stock my cupboards with.

And for the life of me, I can not churn out more than 3 miles on the treadmill.

That is, unless, someone offered to pay for my move to San Francisco? I don’t know if it’s the holidays, the impending conversation with my bosses about the move (and my job!), or the quick math I did to figure how much I should have for this move, and how much I do have, but every waking and even non-waking (volcano!) moment has been about this move recently, and not the fun parts.

When I first planned it, it was all about backyards and ocean and wine country. All of a sudden it’s about jobs and money and apartment down payments and money and how do I get there and do I need to buy a car?

…Sorry I was just distracted by the Justin Bieber perfume commercial, as if I don’t have enough problems!

I know I just have to breathe and not waste my final months here stressing about my future months there. I’m going with two of my best friends:

And I know we will work this stuff out in the coming months. I just think it’s slowly creeping from fantasy to reality, and it’s kind of scary. I’m sure I’ll tap back into the exciting part soon. I know so.

In the meantime, I’m going to finish watching Home Alone 2, take a shower, and try to get back into the rhythm tomorrow, that’s all we can do, right?

Wish me luck! And enjoy your non-cereal dinners!

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