Blindsided on an idle Thursday

One of my all time favorite songs includes the following admonition: "Don’t worry about the future; or worry, but know that worrying is as effective as trying to solve an algebra equation by chewing bubblegum. The real troubles in your life are apt to be things that never crossed your worried mind; the kind that blindside you at 4pm on some idle Tuesday."

I was never very good at following this counsel, as I am, by my very nature, a worrier. Today has been one of those days where I find myself agonizing over the big fat question mark that has managed to insert itself into the effortless routine of my current existence. At this very moment, Scott is in the throes of grad school applications, which means that this year, he's actually serious about getting that MBA. That's right, folks: it has been a drama three years in the making, but he took the GMAT last Saturday, narrowed his list of grad school selections, and is now banging at the door of higher education, anxiously waiting to see who answers. This is the year where it all happens. School in September is an all but foregone conclusion. He has applied to schools in the area and a handful of programs in various parts of the country, as is customary when you want to make sure you have options when you make a decision of this magnitude. With those options, comes the possibility of having to find a new place to call home. I can't help but reflect on how different the process was when I was in his shoes. I had no job, no commitments and no significant other to speak of, which meant I had nothing tying me down to a particular locale. I was invested nowhere which made me literally willing to go anywhere, and that was perfectly alright. I was able to fit all my earthly possessions into the back of my trusty Honda and go wherever fate took me, which incidentally, was the fabulous Pacific Northwest. It all worked out so perfectly, even though I do recall being an complete basket case when I was embarking on this particular adventure. Fast forward four years. Now, relocating means excitement but tempered by a healthy dose of anxiety. Will Scott be able to transfer with his job? Will I be able to find a job? Where will we live? How will this affect our other plans and goals? Can we afford to move? And of course the most daunting of all, the prospect of having to take the bar exam in another jurisdiction. Double shudder followed by a dry heave. The stumbling blind part, before you know that everything is going to work out, is the most stressful part of all. And as my lunch break winds down, I can only hope that work will occupy enough of my brain to keep the unnecessary fretting to a minimum.