Out of control

I’m not a control freak. Or, at least, I try not to be. I prefer the house to be clean, but I’ve stopped dedicating whole Saturdays to chores. Instead I sleep in for way too long for no apparent reason. I would like my hubby to be home more, but I don’t demand that he be home for dinner, or even at 8 p.m. I instead go with the ebb and flow of his comings and goings. I’d like Marti to not run the household, but I let her sleep with us, which is probably the cause of my weekend sleep marathons.

So while I try not to control everything in life, I do like to maintain some semblance of control over some of the big things: where I live and where I work. Needless to say, this move is throwing me for a loop. I’m excited to move to sunny California. And while it’s the unknown that is super exciting, it’s also the unknown that is driving me bonkers. Not only do we not know where we’re going to live or where I’m going to work, we don’t even know when the move will happen. The time frame wouldn’t bother me if it weren’t for the fact that because of a severe lack of communication among some of the higher-ups, I've been replaced at my job since October. Sure, it's not my fault that I never set a date I'd be leaving, but I still feel uncomfortable, like someone is breathing down my neck. So I'm trying to let go of my old responsibilities, while staying productive, which is an interesting dichotomy to attempt.

Before Alan and I moved into our current apartment complex, we cased Lawrence, weighed pros and cons, and pretty much had the pick of location and price. Moving to the Stanford-area we've found that nothing is in our control. There are few large complexes, they only know 30 days in advance what they'll have available, and very few accept pets, let alone dogs, as you all know from previous posts. I actually called another apartment yesterday that was in our perfect locale. When asked if he accepted dogs, he said, "Well, it depends on the dog." Then he proceeded to ask "How do you ensure that your dog doesn't bark all day?" Come again?? Are you serious? Are the walls so thin that neighbors can hear every bark and growl? Have people really complained that much in the past? Should I run a tape recorder all day to see if she barks? And do we get kicked out if she does? I understand their concern, no one wants to live next a nuisance barker, but these folks act like they have a community of delicate, super-sensitive old people with above-average hearing who will complain the very instant they hear the slightest peep out of a beast. Leaving Marti is not an option. Anyone who knows me knows that I would give up a limb before I would move away without her. So, I'm still conducting the apartment search, and working with Marti every day on the "no bark" rule. I even had a barking victory yesterday morning: she only barked a couple of times at the hair dryer! A few of her attempted barks turned into stifled I-wasn't-going-to-bark yawns when I pointed and shushed her.

The job issue is a whole other ball of wax. I'm convinced that I'm not getting responses because I have a Kansas address. I've been perfectly qualified and capable of several jobs, and yet, nothing. It's not exactly convenient or cost-effective to up and fly to California for an interview, but I would do it, and I just don't think they take a Kansas candidate seriously. Or maybe I have a huge, glaring typo on my resume and it hit the rubbish bin long ago.

I did go for about 6 weeks of not worrying about work, jobs, apartments, anything. I think Alan was getting a little concerned. When I finally had a minor fit of anxiety this week, he seemed quite relieved. He's too busy worrying about other things so he counts on me to do our worrying for the both of us. But luckily, today I'm back to "don't worry, be happy" mode.