Don't Panic! Wait. Too late.

I have settled into a mid-semester panic. The temperature fluctuates between freezing and sweltering. The locals talk too fast and I'm pretty sure there is drowning in my future. My dog is barking at air, so he senses it too. Animals do that, sense natural disasters and make for higher ground. Unfortunately, he's trapped with the natural disaster (namely me) and so can only announce his distress.

And, in all honesty, I can't say why.(Why the panic, not his having no ability to flee the scene.) It isn't loads of work or even my newly perpetual status as unemployed. (Newly because, until I moved to Baltimore, I was always gainfully employed and much loved by said employer.) Why the heart racing, sweaty palms, and shortness of breath?

Maybe because everything seems due the same week. Or I'm pretty sure I've never written "literary fiction" in m'life, despite years of writing. It could be my utter lack of technological skills or technology having.

Maybe it is my big-mouthed opinionated honesty. I need a shut off valve. I really, really do. Instead, I yammer away in class, like the dork that I am. I yammer away on-line, like the dork that I am. I'm telling you, a muzzle, a catatonic state, or even just a martini would be welcome right about now.

In the meantime, I've got Douglas Adams: Don't Panic.

Cheers,
LV