the end is where we begin in 2013-2014

The last 24 hours have included two lingering sinus headaches that flirted with migraine status, and coincidentally, the revelations that A) I'm getting married in EIGHT MONTHS and B) I'M MOVING THIS MONTH.

I don't still have a job, but my lease is ending. I can't afford to go month to month, even if they'd let me. And there's no point in moving twice. But before I could start to panic, I stuck my head in the HR office and asked about what I needed to do re: two week notice. She told me, and then also told me that I could file the 30-day retirement waiver. So I could get all the money that UGA has sucked out of my paychecks back without the wait. That would functionally double my bank account. I could live on that for a while. There's also the security deposit to get back (fingers crossed), the partial refund from the cable company after I cancel mid-cycle, the SAT check I deposited today, and the measly but welcome $17 from a sociology experiment on Friday. (Which is already slated toward replacing the gas cap on my car. Easy come, easy go.)

Let's back up a bit.

I went to bed early Friday night, because no one sleeps well in a hurricane. I also went to bed with Aaron, because his and his brother's air mattresses in the bottom floor game room allow for one to sleep through the kids' rowdy, stampeding, yelling morning wakeups, and I had this silly notion that I should be rested for a 7.5 hour drive. Unfortunately, at like 6:30 his most-uptight aunt came downstairs and yelled at us for disrespecting Grandma, so I had to go back up to my room and not sleep. Neither of us protested because we had just been yanked out of a dead sleep, but maybe had we been awake he would have actually told her that her Catholic was showing, and I could have mumbled something about noise and relocated to a leather recliner across the room or something. Alas. (Totally worth it, though. And not just because he told me later that I was whimpering in my sleep and he got to cuddle it better. Aw.)

The drive out was a lot easier than the drive in because we knew what to expect. I almost slept in the car for almost 70 miles. This is unheard of. Aaron absolutely did sleep, for almost 50 miles. He does this every time. We also turned around before leaving town because a surf shop was selling t-shirts saying I survived the Weather Channel. Non-Americans, the Weather Channel is histrionic and was actually down the street from us keening about the apocalypse and hyping things up. They do that every time. When we finally got back to Charleston, we both flopped on the bed and bitched and moaned. Then Aaron kicked me off to take a shower while he used my laptop and card to order pizza. It was worth every gram of fat and calorie and dollar. Speaking of, this whole trip was worth a month's dieting and crazed exercise routine! And I was very satisfied to be able to feel pride in my body, and not wish that I had worked harder.

I think I've gained about 4-5 pounds, but I think a lot is water and just a general sense of being out of balance. I've had plentiful rich food and soda and alcohol for a week, sleeping and eating whenever I wanted. Getting back on a routine will take a few days. My parents dumped a metric shit ton of spinach leaves, cucumbers, and tomatoes on me, but as cleansing as I'm sure that is, I'm already getting tired of salad. I just need to switch back to drinking mostly water and get moving again... whenever these headaches ease up. Sleeping normally would also help. I'm not concerned. I'll bounce back when my body's ready. I did a fair amount of exercise on the trip--like when we walked almost 4 miles at noon to the grocery store and got lost. Or kayaking. Or roaming Roanoke Island. Or playing in the pool with the kids. It's just getting all the systems online again. Traveling confuses them.

Sunday morning we met up with our moms at a deli for lunch. Aimee and Micah came as well. My mom poked at me about the bills that need paying and then we went to the church, where our moms discussed decorations and logistics in the hall and where I would walk and where he would wait and where the food and tables and chairs and colors would be. Neither of us had that scary surreal this is happening moment, even after my mom turned to Aaron and very plainly told him that I was going to have an epic meltdown after the wedding and to just let me have my space to deal with it.

After that, my mom went on to finish her vacation in some state park down near the Florida-Georgia border, and we took a box of old toys and junk to the kids. We are so confirmed as favorite aunt and uncle.

Not long after that I drove home. It took 5 hours because there were multiple wrecks on the Interstate, so I eventually exited and called Aimee to give me directions to a parallel highway I knew about. It was an adventure! I listened to local radio, full of fervent Baptist sermons, and drove 65mph through winding fields of corn in a small convoy of fellow detour-ers. When I finally got back on the next Interstate, the speed of traffic was ridiculous for almost 100 miles, so I made up a lot of my time. I was worn the eff out when I got home, but navigating without a map or GPS was really fun. I knew I was heading west on a US highway, and whenever I reached the Savannah River I needed to go north until I hit the east-west Interstate. Turns out, I intersected the Interstate, but it was still fun charting my own directions.

Lena came down with stress-induced conjunctivitis right before I came home. She was a whiny mess when I got in, but since I've been home to cuddle and feed her, she's bounced right back. Within 48 hours, she's gone from feverish and runny to drying out and playing and sassing the dog. Her ears are still a bit warm, and she sleeps a lot, but she is eating like crazy. She's had a full bowl of kibble and a can of wet food in two days. She passed a giant snot ball out of her right eye yesterday and hasn't had any problems since.

Work wasn't too bad. People missed me. People realized that when I'm not there, all the purchasing and invoicing gets tangled up in knots and now they're fretting about when I leave. I've caught up on everything, I think. When I got home Monday, I was all set for a nap with my mildly ill cat when Aaron made his daily phone call and casually referenced that we're getting married in eight months. I was then so full of nervous energy that I completely cleaned the kitchen and the litter box.

I also have looked at the schematic my mom sent for the ceremony and nearly panicked. Talking about it was fine. Looking at a diagram and thinking I have to walk down that nearly drove me up the walls. Then my boss called me in to talk about resignation dates and two-week notices, and I realized that I have to submit that notice next week, and when I went to Publix tonight to pick up some stock items on awesome sale I also got a bottle of wine, because coping mechanisms.

(Unashamedly, my other coping mechanism lately is going on certain wedding websites and forums and looking at how crazy, catty, and anal-retentive other brides are, and feeling sane and emotionally stable in comparison.)

Monday, I found a job vacancy for a beach resort that is exactly what I do now, with work orders and purchasing. I applied immediately. It pays at the very low spectrum of what I need to pay the bills, but it's workable. (I think. Especially if I continue doing the SAT and ACT. That's $250 a month if I can do both tests.) Unless they think I'm overqualified.

I have to move this month. Not only because of the lease, but because my parents are offering to help me, and in August, they go back to work. Or at least my mom does. I don't know if my dad has found a new job yet. This means I have to pack. And make a trip back down there to find a place to live. And rent a truck. And quit my job. ALL BECAUSE OF THIS ROCK ON MY FINGER.

Also because I hate this town and dislike my job and I've been trying to get out of here for two years, but let's blame the shiny.

I am cautiously waiting for this all to fall into place, as it does when you screw your eyes shut and tentatively edge one toe over the metaphorical cliff before making a giant leap of faith and sobbing something about YOLO because that's totally how God works, right?

But... a late move means I don't have to pay the lease-breaking penalty of $600. It means I had the leave time banked to go to the family reunion. It means my parents can help me move. It means I get two paychecks with my raise. Moving without a job to slide into means I can spend a week or whatever at home helping my animals to acclimate and be less traumatized, which was immensely important last time.

I moved to Georgia without a job lined up and even less help available, tangibly and financially. I can do it again to South Carolina.

But in the meantime, there's gonna be a LOT of anxiety, restless nights, headaches, and wine consumption.

Speaking of, I need another dose of Tylenol.