It is really hard to take a picture of a hand holding a bubble wand sticking out of a car window on the freeway.
I suppose it…wait, a what now?
A hand. Holding a bubble wand.
Going down the freeway.
Yeah. Blowing bubbles.
Uh. Bubbles?
Out of the passenger window of a black SUV.
While you were in your car.
Right behind their car.
And you were driving.
Who else would have been driving?
And so your first reaction was to take a picture. While driving.
No. My first reaction was to stop crying and laugh because the bubbles were so fucking adorable. Taking a picture was my second reaction.
I don’t even know what to say now.
I know. It was pretty cute. You should have seen all the bubbles.
No, I mean about the crying. Or the in car photography.
Oh, I cry on the way home every night. You should be more worried about the in car photography. And don’t sigh at me.
You make that challenging.
Anyway, traffic started to move so I immediately put my phone down.
Immediately? No you didn’t.
Nearly immediately?
Maybe.
Well, anyway. I put my phone down.
What’s the deal with the crying?
Nothing. Just the usual thing where 2018 thinks it will be able to kill me if it just keeps trying, and it still hasn’t given up after 3 months. So I cry.
Work?
Work. Personal. It all sucks and I’m in limbo on every side.
Your friendship side seems to be working fine.
True story, but even then…two of my most favorite people are beset with the same sort of shit that I am.
Did you really just use the word beset in conversation?
Maybe. You should pay closer attention.
I’m sure you’re right. So why do you cry in the car?
Because I have to act like I have my act together all day at work. Usually, that is not difficult…but this month I just don’t have it in me to keep it together all day at work and NOT cry on the way home. It’s all I can do to get to the car sometimes.
I guess there are worse ways to handle stress.
Well, with the whole fat camp thing I can’t handle it the usual way.
Booze?
No, potato chips.
Really? Not booze? I thought you were a bourbon fan. And IPA.
I am, but not when I feel like I really need a drink. With my family history, when I feel like I really need a drink I know I can’t have one. And I hate to drink alone. I’m a purely social drinker. Get me in a happy situation with all of my friends and a good glass filler and I’ll drink all day. Not when I’m stressed out.
Good to know.
My drug of choice is the chip. Or mashed potatoes. I’m not sure it’s much healthier to eat my stress than it would be to drink.
Maybe not.
Anyway. I’ve been mostly able to handle the stress without turning to carbs. Kind of a miracle. The most stressful 3 months of my life, and I’ve lost 18 pounds.
Well done.
It’s probably not due to my healthy diet. The way this year is going, it’ll probably turn out to be a terminal illness or something. Which I will be diagnosed with just after losing my job and insurance.
Ordinarily I would tease you about being overly dramatic, but this has been a horrible year. Maybe you should get a checkup.