Okay, the divorce wasn’t final yet, but I knew it would be soon. But I still hadn’t gotten used to the idea of living in a different family, not just perching on my good friends’ guest bed.
I mean yeah, I thought about what it meant to be gone for so long, but ...
So I called it my big adventure. And Mom kept talking about it being good for me to “get away from all of it.”
I volunteered in February for a “six or seven month assignment at a client site in Denver with start date TBD. “ Then, no information. In April and May I submitted lots of paperwork, online test accreditations and e-paperwork.
In July or August I found out I passed the Background Security Check required by the client, part of the Federal Government.
In September I had to retake one online course and submit the new certificate.
In October I found out we were going to Cleveland first, and BTW we start in three weeks, and BTW we need to fly you out here to Baltimore next week to get your PIV badge ‘cause they can’t make them in Cleveland.
I found out they pronounce PIV “pive” rhymes with “give,” not “pee eye vee” or even “personal identity verification.” I stopped giggling about it.
I’ve been so busy with information craving, then paperwork tedium, then packing worries and more new processes, new paperwork. I never slowed down enough to process.
Living on my own. Turns out it will be an AirBNB 1 bedroom apartment. More square feet than my future granny pod.
Lots of time to really think about where I’ve gotten myself and where I’m going and what I can shed.
A chance to find out what it’s really like to live where everything stays where I put it last, and every meal I cook only takes into account what I like to eat.
In a space close enough to work that I won’t even be driving a car.
I don’t wanna go?