My cat woke us up stupidly early this morning because she wanted her milk. She’d apparently gotten used to Chris getting up for work, so there she was, mewing her head off. I was not pleased. Normally, if something wakes me up in the morning, I can shine it on, roll over and go right back to sleep. This seems fair to me… getting to sleep – at night, when you’re supposed to – that is a perpetual struggle. I have lost many, many battles to insomnia, and countless hours of sleep. But normally I can sleep in with the best (or laziest) of them. But something happened this morning. Maybe it was just the thought that Brazie had already gotten used to Chris going to work. Whatever it was, my head started down a dark path. I kept thinking about all our debt and the fact that paying the mortgage would be impossible for the second month in a row. Then I started worrying about losing the house, and my son having to change schools. It was at this point that I nearly threw up.

This was highly unusual. Normally, when my brain is on a Tasmanian Spiral, I’ll react in a fashion I consider more typical. I’ll cry, or yell at people who don’t deserve it. Sometimes I’ll even clean, although things have to be pretty bad to take me to that point. (Loss of a loved one will do it.) But throw up, or even almost throw up? Not so much.

I have an unusually cast iron stomach, which is a good thing, because I truly hate puking. I have gone years without having thrown up, and it takes quite a bit to do it. Extreme food poisoning is the obvious choice, but that’s happened three times, ever. I literally have only had the stomach flu once. When I was pregnant with my son, I also only threw up once, in labor. With my daughter I had terrible morning sickness and threw up more in one month than I had in the previous ten years combined. It was my own personal hell. But other than that anomaly, throwing up has been blessedly rare.  As emotional as I am prone to get, I have never gotten worked up enough to throw up, or even to feel as if I might. This was as close as I have come, and it freaked me out. I don’t know if it was because I was barely conscious and my defenses were down, or what. Not fun. Way not fun.

My stress level has been extremely high. Chris’ rep at the employment agency is trying to put him up for another part-time contract gig, in hopes that together the two might form a 40 hour a week job. This seems unlikely to me. Our experience with his current job is that it is very much feast or famine. Either he works 38 hours in four days or he has a week like this where he hasn’t worked yet. If there is work, he’ll be too busy to split his attention. I appreciate that she’s willing to try, though. This week has me pretty much writing off the job as a potential permanent position, which is hard. It seemed so ideal in any number of ways. Still, the original dishonesty with respect to the job description coupled with their overall lack of concern for the position they’ve put him in leaves me with a bad taste in my mouth. I would find it nearly impossible to trust them. I’m not suggesting Chris turn down their work when it’s available. It’s more that he’s going to have to find the time and energy to pour into a continued search, difficult as that will be. This is so unfair… he’s gone through so much already. We all have.

Okay, it’s really late. Must find sleep.

Stupid cat.

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