So, the month of June was a series of ups and downs.
After 42 days in the hospital, Esteban was finally released. That was pretty awesome. Then I was bitten by a large dog the following week (which necessitated a trip to the urgent care, a bunch of gauze, pain and a whole lot of strangers staring at my nether parts) and then four days after that, I found out that I was no longer employed.
(By the way, whatever you’re thinking after you read that last bit, you’re probably spot on, but talking about it on the internet is messy, so I can’t really comment.)
So, punch to the crotch, both literal and figurative? Check.
Clearly the universe needed a course correction. So next day, we put in an offer on a new house.
Apparently, when you have a life-endangering event, you just don’t really give a shit anymore. All of the old fears and trepidations about change and uncertainty? Really not important any longer. Oh, it’s not like they’re gone — I’m still having panic attacks about my lack of steady income — but in the whole scheme of things, are we in the ICU right now? Is someone with a needle trying their best to screw up a routine procedure and put us in danger of a cardiac episode? Can we do something as simple as take a fucking drink of water?
Or, as Esteban put it much more succinctly, “You know, I almost died last month so I really don’t think this is a big deal.”
Yeah. We’ve got this. The second half of 2013 is going to be awesome.