God bless Bob Marley and can someone please pass the bong? Where do you find the ability to not worry and trust that everything will be all right? Especially in a state that has yet to approve medical marijuana. But when you worry about everything, how do you let go? I’m 44 years old and still haven’t learned this one.
I worry about the health and happiness of my loved ones. The widowed mother, the aging grandmas, several friends going through health and relationship issues. And then there is Darling Daughter. growing up in a scary world–okay, the teenage boys scare me. The boys in her school haven’t figured out her appeal–yet. But I’m sure that day is coming.
I’m clearly still worried about that freaking old job–yay, filter working tonight. I keep having the nightmare that I have to go back and work there. Maybe if I type it out right here, it will register with my brain. I WILL NEVER WORK FOR THOSE BASTARDS AGAIN. I WOULD SOONER TAKE UP RESIDENCY WITH THE HOMELESS OF DAYTON! Good–Let’s hope that takes.
I worry about my new job and getting caught up there. It is the life of a property manager . . . you just can’t move fast enough to make everyone happy. I worry that injuries to my body heal at the speed of slugs. I worry about most everything, because I am so damn good at it.
Let’s imagine lying on a sandy beach, a light wind keeping the temperature mild, a margarita in my hand, reggae playing in the background, and my iPhone back in the hotel room. So how the hell do I get there?