Since Graham and I have such different schedules, on most days he’s falling asleep just as I’m waking up. I can’t fall asleep to the television and it would be cruel to make him lie awake in bed all night, so usually, I go to bed and he stays out in the living room. I wake up a lot during the night and almost always know that he’s out there, but last night, sometime between falling asleep and three in the morning, I forgot about him.
When I woke up at 3am, it sounded like water was running in the bathroom. I turned my face towards my bedroom door and saw light under it. I never leave the lights on at night, and I knew I didn’t leave the water on. Although I normally wake up in the middle of the night convinced that there is an intruder and/or zombies in the house, last night this didn’t occur to me at all. I was too afraid that there was a massive leak in the bathroom and that I would somehow be liable. So I stumbled out of bed, opened the door, and saw Graham peeing in the bathroom.
I just stared at him for a few seconds because I couldn’t figure out why he was there. I thought he’d dropped me off after the baseball game and gone home, I guess, and while I wasn’t mad about him coming back over to watch basic cable, I still thought it was strange.
“What?” he asked.
“Uh…I don’t…what did you…I don’t know.”
“Are you okay?”
“I saw the light and thought someone was here.”
“Were you planning on karate chopping me or something?”
“No…um. I thought there was a leak. With the water. The pee.”
It occurred to me that Graham hadn’t gone home, and that he had been in the living room all along. This meant that I was talking like a lunatic and could have anywhere between 2 hours and 5 more minutes to sleep. So I lurched my half-asleep body back to bed, where it took me a few minutes to relax because I realized that if Graham had been an intruder, seriously, what would I have done? I don’t know karate.
Maybe this is what caused me to wake up this morning with an unusually high level of anxiety. And not like normal anxiety. This is ongoing, mysterious, poor concentration, slightly nauseating anxiety that’s making me consider every terrible situation I can think of. I’ve been thinking about terrible situations since six o’clock this morning. The worst one – meaning the one I’m fixating on the hardest – is that even though we’ve signed the lease and handed over the money, this new house will somehow fall through and that’s why my new landlord hasn’t answered my e-mail from 8:00 this morning or returned my phone call from 4:30 this afternoon. I just want to know when we can get the keys so that we can schedule the utility hookup appointments before we actually move in. I don’t want to obsess over the fact that she hasn’t yet cashed our checks while ignoring the facts that she’s been very nice and cool so far and I am probably making this way worse than it is and of course I can’t call her again because that would be rude. I just want to hear from her so I can stop freaking the fuck out. I can’t stay in this apartment after next Saturday afternoon, okay? My landlords are coming back into town that night and I’ve made the commitment that I must have this new house, and if that didn’t happen for some fucked up reason, I think I would go a little bit insane.
More insane than I already am. Because obviously. I need this house. I need to stop being so anxious. I need to slow my fucking roll, Sea Captain.