“Half a league, half a league, half a league onward,
Into the valley of death rode the six hundred.”
This is a very accurate evocation of how I feel right now. Because I have to go with #1 son for him to take his driving test. Not for me to take the driving test. I don’t even have to drive. I just have to sit there, worrying about being late for work. No, I realize that the worrying is not compulsory. But that is what I will be doing. And breathing deeply. And reminding myself that, while these things feel as though there is some serious danger at hand, there is actually nothing wrong.
I won’t be knitting, because my zombie knitting project has taken a turn for the worse.
So, while I am in complete agreement with the many people who have told me that my little agoraphobia doesn’t count as a serious problem, I still want some sympathy. Okay, Pokey? I promise to sympathize with any little unreasonable quirks of yours.
Later… Thank you all for your supportive comments. I survived, and he passed. I almost deleted this, but then it struck me that to do so would be dishonest. After all, I knew that I wasn’t over agoraphobia, but had just overcome it in the sense of being able to cope. Feeling silly is part of it, right?
So, hey, I took the kid to his driving test. And lived.