Today, I found out my contract assignment is ending. Not a surprise, but I wish I had more than a two week notification.
This news comes at a time when I'm trying to determine what to do about my apartment. My apartment that has leaked for the entire length of my lease (like day 1 I moved in to water on the floor). The same apartment that suffered some damage during Hurricane Irene in August (if you've lost track of time, it's now February). Do I want to have them come in and do the requisite repairs, or is this the signal to move out of the building? Is it time to move out of Jersey City altogether?
I don't know.
I do know that my normal problems, ranging of such complicated topics as do I have the right eye shadow colors to when do I go for a run, are now eclipsed by my mother's declining health.
Nothing I've described is weird; but the day feels weird, somehow. Then the message from the ex boyfriend arrives in my e-mail box. One sentence: "I was thinking about you this morning and thought I'd write to see how you are." There it sits, mocking me, in my inbox. This ex, by the way, is an ex of 18 years. I haven't seen him or heard from him until sometime last year. On LinkedIn no less. Not anxious to compose my reply.
Stay tuned though. The wild ride is coming. I can feel it. Where to live? Where to work? Will I find work? What do I do until then?
I escaped another night without running. Who said actually training for a half marathon is a good idea?