When I finally crossed over into Georgia, a little happy dance went off in my brain. I, however, just held tight to the steering wheel and promised to celebrate later.
I thought I might cry at the sight of my exit, I got all teary and choked up. But decided that would be a bad time to crash, considering I was so close … so I shoved the emotion back in, and waited until I pulled into the driveway for my breakdown.
But I didn’t cry at all like I thought I would. I just sighed, really loudly.
My back throbbed (still is) and all I wanted to do was pee. So I did. I made the appropriate phone calls, let the dog out, did a load of laundry. Then Mary came home and we had dinner.
I still don’t feel the urge to cry. I don’t even feel sad. No remorse, no regret, no chest-thumping fear. That’s a strange thing, considering I’ve been an emotional fountain the last few weeks.
I feel strangely calm. But I’m not complaining.
Today I wanted to be productive. I opened a checking account, I cancelled some old credit cards, I switched my car insurance over, I looked at paint samples.
Even the things that I thought would be a pain in the ass, like switching my auto insurance – were so simple I could’ve done them in a coma. (Good thing I don’t have to, though.) The insurance girl was just … soooo nice. She made it uber easy and I just sat and watched and signed where she pointed. Now I’ll save about $40, and I’m legal in this fine state.
And then there was the bank, usually a place I dread going into. I planned on doing a bit of comparision shopping and pick the best one. But the first one I stopped into was just so nice and clean, and the girl there was so friendly and helpful … I just had to sit and stay a while. We chatted about this and that and next thing you know I have a new account, with all the features I was looking for.
I guess I’m finding the profound in the mundane, but isn’t that the point? I realize this is just the beginning of a very interesting journey.
