My sister came for a visit at the beginning of the week. I laughed so hard the first night she was here that I thought my ribs were going to break. Our laughter was an antidote to my anxiety. I’ve begun to feet anxious about being suspended in the vacuum of not knowing, the very state that I’ve scripted for myself. My rig has been in the shop for a week. I’ve been told to expect its return today or tomorrow but expectations come without a fulfillment warranty. Since things went awry during my first week with B0bbie, my rig, this second week is rife with the creeping sensation that the dark side has more in store for me and Bobbie.
I espouse that that anxiety is a useless emotion. Mastering a state of the absence of anxiety is more than flipping a switch. If it would help, then taking advantage of being anxious when the opportunity arises would become commonplace. But it causes heart palpitations and ensuing tension. I’m working with the antidotes in my tool kit…meditation, yoga, walks with my dog, Lola, music, and laughing.
Yesterday I spoke with the service manager at the facility in Mississippi where my rig is undergoing its repair. He spoke with a strong southern accent.
Me: “Hello, Dan, Can you tell me what caused the leak in my rig?”
Dan: “A cla-ump came aloose. That’s the matter with yur fresh waters.”
Me: ” Seems like a simple fix.”
Dan: “Yep, We got ’em parts a comin’ in.”
Dan: “Don’t rightly know for shore, but ‘spec today or t’marr.”
Me: “But there is another plumbing issue as well?”
Dan: “Yessir, Yer tank waste line’s broke. Yer jack foot tore it when it drug the road.”
Me: “And the parts for that repair?”
Dan: “They’s on the way her, too.”
Me: “What about the jack stabilizer that malfunctioned?”
Dan: “Hits on order, also, but it could take a week, maybe two. You wanna come back fer it later, we’ll put your name on it.”
The degree of what I don’t know has been lessened. I do know that I can jaw in Mississippi tongue. I ain’t anxious about them conversations.