Page 62 of Any Second Now
Outdated Millennial
RALEIGH
Saturday, July 12
Impressive social media engagement and new orders proves that people like quotes about hockey players. And zombies.
I wonder if I should combine them?
But my fingers are sore, and I need a break from doing cross-stitch. That last video I posted racked up more views after last weekend, and I got two new orders. That might not sound like a lot, but it takes a few hours to stitch each quote. My pile of hoops with flowers already stitched on them is getting lower, so my next goal is to get ahead in case I keep getting steady orders.
But for now, I’m caught up, so I’m going to take a break and continue reading the travel memoir Atticus got me.
I carefully approach the hammock, like it’s a wild animal I’m trying not to startle. I’ve tried to get into this thing multiple times but each time I chicken out—no offense, Megghen—because I’m terrified of spinning around and landing face down in the grass. But I googled it. I’ve gotta start with my butt in the center of the hammock, then get a hand on both sides of the contraption beforeslowly swinging my legs up and around. And then the key is to lie diagonally, not straight, to keep stable.
I can do this. I wasn’t an athlete when I was young, but I’m not as clumsy as Lucy. She’d end up on the ground for sure. But I haven’t gotten in yet, and I feel bad that Atticus spent all this money on me and it’s just sitting—er, hanging?—here.
I tuck the book under my arm and slide my butt onto the hammock very slowly.
So far so good.
Megghenboc boc bocsat me from her sturdy chicken coop.
“Don’t watch me!” I hiss and give her the dirtiest look.
She keeps staring, cocking her chicken head.
“I’m a chicken, not you,” I say in her chicken voice. “Just get in the stupid hammock.”
I roll my eyes. Why is she always so judgmental?
“Fine. I’m not trying to impress you anyway.” I grip the sides of the hammock like it’s the floating door next to a sinking ship in the middle of the ocean. “I can do this,” I whisper. Then I look around and crack up.
What on earth am I doing?
Like right now, this very second, but also with my life?
Why do I dream about never going back to my pharmacy job again?
I really, really need to explore what that’s about. I thought my dream was to take a break from my life in Connecticut, have a few adventures on the road, get some space from the small town where both my ex-husbands and my mother live.
Now that I’m out, I kinda never want to go back.
But what, exactly, do I never want to go back to? My job? That town? Any small suburban environment? Proximity to my exes?
It’s not clear.
And then what would I do? Cross-stitch? Even if I did it twelve hours a day, I don’t think I could make enough to pay rent or a mortgage.
I love not being trapped in the pharmacy all day.
I love letting my mind wander and taking care of Megghen.
Fort Collins is growing on me, which is amusing because over the past year, January and I had to listen to Lucy gradually fall in love with this place without even realizing it.
It’s different with me, of course. One hundred percent different. Lucy ran away from her old life to try to prove something to them.
I’m doing it to prove something to myself.
