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really bad writing

The sun had finally set. The day was finally over. All was quiet – until that fateful knock at the door…I froze in the middle of doing the dishes and Mom looked up. Two women were standing on our front porch and they were the kind of women not welcome inside our home, the Belle Watlings of the world. We were perturbed, for there really was no reason for these kinds of women to be coming to our house. Who could they be?

All we knew was they drove a white van and they were looking for something. Or someone…We didn’t answer the door and in a few boring minutes, they walked back to their van, pulled out some paper which I’m assuming has directions, then pulled away.

I finished the dishes and kept thinking about where these women came from and where they were headed. A dinner party? No, that can’t be right. Unless it was Great Gatsby style, there’s no way they were going to a dinner party dressed like that. Were they looking for people to convert? Ha! Unless it was some Magic Mike religion, there’s no way they were evangelists.

Whatever these women were up to, they were long gone now and on their way to the Right Place. For their sakes, I hoped they got there.

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Anxious much?

We are all doctors. I’m having anxiety over having anxiety. This diagnosis happened only because I was scrolling through Facebook and I found a list a Friend had shared over the symptoms of anxiety. I have every single one of them and then I became anxious reading over the list. Then I laughed at this silly exercise because maybe I don’t have anxiety at all and am only suffering under Med School Reading Anxiety. You read about a disease in a book and from the listed symptoms think you have that disease because you are exhibiting those symptoms. Does that make us all doctors if we can read? Yeah, I’m probably anxious. It’s making me antsy just thinking about possibly having anxiety vs. possibly suffering under Med School Reading Anxiety. Maybe I’m looking into this too much. Maybe I have something totally different. I don’t know what that is exactly, but I do have a vague idea. Only I don’t know what it’s called. Hypochondriac comes to mind. Don’t get me wrong though. That’s NOT the same thing as Med School Reading Anxiety. Now I think I’m just suffering under Verbosity. Oi. This is me having anxiety over having anxiety.