It’s 2:48 pm EDT. I’m eating food in the breakroom at work. I’m so stressed, I’m nauseous, but I’m also hungry cause I haven’t been eating much. I thought about getting a $5.00 sushi package, but didn’t think my stomach could handle the fish. Then I realized I think my body wants rice, which is good to eat if your stomach is wonky.

I found a chicken and mushroom meal in the deli. The meat is raw so, I had to cook it in the microwave. It seemed like it took forever. I also got a microwavable packet of Basmati rice. I think it’s doing the trick.

I’m headed to Tampa to pick up Rose from Tampa General Hospital—again. This is her fifth stay in the hospital since her surgery on June 21st. Complications big time.

These drives stress me out. I panic that something will break on the car. If that happens, I have no money to fix it, not sure how many tow miles Progressive Insurance would give me. And, then, what about picking up my roommate? How would that happen? Tampa General isn’t a hotel. She’d have to take Uber, or Lyft to a hotel. I have $8.00. I can’t do either of those things.

Yeah, I know, why worry about stuff that hasn’t happened? Well, when my finances imploded in 2007 (completely my fault. I think the Lamictal wasn’t working as well as I thought), a catastrophe happened about three times per week. I cried every day for two years. So, fight or flight sometimes becomes my usual mental status. It’s probably taken years off my life. I’m hoping my twisted sense of humor has added a few years.

Juxtaposed on that foundation is the fact that I’m still a little jumpy driving after being in a four car accident just over two years ago. If the wreck had been my fault, I think I would feel more at ease because I wouldn’t be so paranoid I was driving along side a careless driver, or one impaired by a bullet wound in his side. Yeah, that’s the kind of driver that caused my wreck in Casselberry. He was doing something illegal; that’s all I know.

Also, I’m taking I-4 for most of the trip. If you’ve ever been to Central Florida, you’ve heard the rumors of how nasty that interstate highway can be. It’s either a race like the Daytona 500, or a freaking parking lot, but usually it’s a combination.

Oh, and I had three hours of sleep cause I’m stressed.

Done eating. It’s time time to change into comfy clothes.