It’s four days until Easter. Unless something unforeseen happens, this will be the first Easter that I haven’t seen my daughter since she was born. I’m not happy about it. Last year, Carole, Nicholas and I road tripped to Erika’s town to have Easter with her and head home. That is when the 16-year-old dog decided to give up the ghost, and we ate Easter dinner while worrying about what was going on at home, trying to hurry and not to hurry. It was pretty awful. For that reason I didn’t ask for a road trip this year. We saw Erika a few weeks ago, and she assures me that an Easter on her own doesn’t bother her in the least. Both kids says say they are confirmed atheists. There are much worse things, I know.
At work the staff for Friday, “Good” Friday, dwindles, and I worry. I still haven’t heard about the state of my job and I’d really love it if I could learn much more quickly through bland experience than through pain. Friday will pass and it will be fine. Anxiety is doing nothing for me here. I’ve been helping some younger (in the program) women with some steps. For two of them, that’s Step Ten. If only my inventory resulted in a better stock.