Finally ventured out beyond the driveway/backyard, for the first time since that doctor's appointment on March 22nd, to see Evan's new apartment.
The shoes fits!
And if the shoe fits..
The bra fits!
The clothes that aren't part of the three outfits I've been recycling for eight weeks now still fit.
The neighborhood looked completely alien, like when you return from two months of summer camp to see that your house shrunk.
Nothing looked familiar. I might as well have been a Chilean miner blinking in the sunlight after being entombed for weeks.
Evan carved himself out f a nice little bachelor pad, but I felt sadness as a I sat on his couch as a guest in his home.
He should have been settled in weeks ago.
The baseball trip with Jim to four different stadiums in four cities should have fresh memories to talk about and relive.
The Woodloch trip would be behind us..we'd be discussing which cast member from "Survivor
was the most down to earth and we should be getting psyched for our June getaway with the family.
I'd be soon visiting my precious great niece and great nephew in our shared vacation home instead of virtually.
My BBF would be getting ready for Italy, another friend would be wrapping up her cruise.
Of course there are worse problems than this, deadlier problems, problems with insurmountable repercussions.
I know it..in my head.
My heart is just quietly sobbing, in a corner, with the bra unhooked.
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