On Edge

I had a truly delightful weekend. Well, once I got over the gasped "Oh, are you pregnant again?" that I got from the dean of admissions here when I walked into the med school cafeteria. (Uh, no. Just crazy and on meds that have made me gain 30 pounds in the last six months. But thanks for asking...) I think it bothered me most because she's smart, and nice, and pretty, and funny...and therefore it must mean that I actually DO look pregnant, at least in my work clothes. Why couldn't she be stupid or mean? That would have made it much easier to shrug off. But I'm over it. Or I will be, in a year or two. Maybe three. Or four. But someday.

Anyway, the weekend. Delightful. Movies, multiple dinners with multiple friends, fireworks, a Memorial Day parade, kids splashing around in my backyard, beautiful weather, and a little boy who seems to be getting the hang of this potty thing, or at least beginning to get there. I was commenting to Baroy about how happy I am right now, especially socially. We have a great and ever-expanding group of friends, people I enjoy, people who challenge me intellectually, people who understand me emotionally. I don't think I've felt this settled, socially, since college, which was literally half a lifetime ago. (Yikes.)

So I'm not really sure why, today, my weird neurons have decided to start working overtime. I've had this unsettling feeling all day. It started with the fact that one of my email accounts, my main personal email account, seems to have shut down early this morning, and I can't get any mail there. And in some bizarre, Rube-Goldbergian way, that kicked off a chain reaction that led to me being convinced that Stalker Girl is back. It's been a year, over a year, in fact. And it's not like I think she hacked into my email account or anything. It's just that the hairs on the back of my neck have been standing up all afternoon. I feel like I need to be paying attention, need to be on my guard. I feel uncomfortable. Mostly because this sort of thinking is so uncontrollable. When I say I'm convinced she's back, what I mean is that physiologically and emotionally, I'm convinced. But logically, intellectually, I know the chances are slim. Still, I'm just a tad worried. Looking over my shoulder, just because I can't help it. She's never come at us the same way twice, and I have no idea how she will come at us the next time, assuming there is a next time. And so I watch, and I wait, and I shake my head at myself in anger and resignation. Oh, and I eat. Hmmm. I think I may see a connection here...