of which I have none.
Waiting, I hate waiting.
When I was going through my dark days during my pregnancy it was the waiting that made it worse. I knew that if I could just get to a certain point, I’d be fine – if I could get the job, have the baby safe and sound; all these little milestones that I knew would come, but it was the uncertainty between where I was and where I wanted to be that was the worst.
So here I am waiting again.
Waiting to see if someone else with seniority wants the position I need.
Waiting to get calls back from banks.
Waiting to see what happens next.
I feel like someone has me by one arm as I lean over a cliff. Luckily the consequences aren’t so dire – if I don’t get the shift, I wait some more. If it’s not the right time to buy, we wait some more, but it’s that feeling like we’re almost there that’s the worst.
So in the meantime I’ve been trying to keep busy, trying not to think too much on how perfect this house would be or that shift would be. Trying to perfect my housekeeping skills again with the prospect of being on our own again. Working on projects for the holidays. Tending to the remaining things in the garden – tomatoes are still producing, and a few peppers, the strawberry plants are still thriving and the raspberry bush should be twice it’s size next year. Things are good, and are getting better and I know I just have to wait.