Head down. Humble. Don't say any more than what you were asked.

Get through the border into the EU, and THEN celebrate. DO NOT look happy about this at any point prior to being completely within EU territory with all the necessary stamps...

Good luck, my friend. The light at the end of the tunnel is here.

When I moved back to the USA from living overseas for 7 years, I was really lost. It was a shocking cultural transition that I was not prepared for. It took me a long time to "become American" again.

I lived with my sister, who had just bought a house before the market crashed. My rent helped her out, but it was a 1-bed 1-bath house, so I lived in the back yard in the "barn". Which I renovated into a nice little loft space. (But no bathroom.)

I quickly burned through my savings. 10 years of savings for Hungary was about a year's salary for a secretary here in Seattle. That went fast.

I couldn't get a job because I had no recent US experience. I was "at sea", as they say.

My sister and I wound up getting a dog. A black lab, shepherd, husky mix about 5 months old. The owner had a sudden job change and needed the dog to go to someone who was going to be around (she was moving to Arizona for a traveling sales job).

After some initial confusion about our roles, my sister became "Auntie" and I became "Dad" to our girl, Layna.

From Day 1 she listened to me. I never ordered her around. I just talked to her like you would to another person. And she understood.

She came everywhere with me, even when I got a job, she was welcome at my series of dog-friendly workplaces. As I built my new life in America, went through jobs and relationships, it was always Layna and I together. She was my partner and my friend throughout the most significant changes I had ever gone through in my life.

She was much more of a "person" than a dog.

When I'd go to the coffee shop, I'd tell her to wait outside. And no matter how long I was inside, she'd still be waiting in the same spot for me when I came out.

She was brilliant with kids, cats, and other dogs. Never got in a single fight. Never bit anyone. Had that Labrador "soft mouth" and would gently take food; not snatch it.

When we would go someplace, like a house party, I'd walk her around the edge of the yard and tell her this was as far as she could go. She would understand and self-regulate, and stay in the yard, no matter the distractions that passed on the sidewalk, etc.

Her sweet eyes told people that she wasn't dangerous - despite being a big black 70-pound dog - and kids immediately took to her.

She was just as good with my wife, too. Completely voice-controlled, we only used a leash when other people were worried.

She was my daily companion for 15 years and 3 months, and died on June 14th. Surrounded by friends and family, on her favorite bed, in her favorite spot in the back yard under our Douglas Fir tree.

My wife and I have never known each other without Layna, and our lives have changed now. We are sad, but we also knew she lived a very long and very happy life, and she told us when it was time to go, and we let her go.

I'm sad.

https://imgur.com/a/rYerefY

(That would've been a photo of her, but I can't be fucked to figure out what stupid stunts I need to do to make it show up. So click it. She was beautiful.)

So here are some photos of our Moxie:

https://imgur.com/a/McRr33B

(Sorry... can't figure out the secret incantation to get the images to show here, so there's just a link to the gallery.)

Ever since my parents and sister got vaccinated, my stress level has gone down dramatically. I knew I was stressed about them and COVID, but I don't think I really realized how stressed I was.

I'm also switching into Project Mode again around the house. Now that we get brief breaks of sunshine, I'm looking at my tools and wanted to tear into stuff... installing a pocket door for the downstairs bedroom... resurfacing the deck and building a new railing... finishing laying the pavers for the patio... tilling up the front yard and getting it ready for planter boxes...

Gettin' itchy...

This post is perfect. And it made me think that maybe Hubski needs a "comments disabled" option that posters can use to just put up something whole and complete... and prevent any comment on.

Comments like this

that detract from the original post

and have no real purpose.

My wife bought our house years before she met me. Her first roommate still lives with us. He's a black man in his late 50's now. He works in one of the cafes in one of Amazon's buildings downtown. He also suffers from a disease called CIPD that affects his immune system, and requires monthly blood infusions to keep it from getting worse. (It doesn't ever get better.)

For two months now, he has been home, and our little quaranteam of 3 work very hard to keep us safe. We do it for him, and for my parents who are in their 70's and 80's... and are people I would really like to hug again some day.

Despite the Amazon building he is in being almost entirely unoccupied, his company has asked him to return to work 2 days a week.

His CIPD keeps him from driving, so he has to take the bus - well, THREE buses - to get to work, and then the same thing coming back.

To keep him safe(r), my wife and I are driving him in to work.

...

Now, the Seattle Police Department is rioting, and doing so every single night. We have curfews from 9:PM to 5:AM every day, through the weekend.

Because a black man, like my housemate, was murdered by a cop. While three other cops watched it happen over 9 minutes.

Yesterday I had to rush INTO the downtown area, to pick him up, because Amazon Security decided to close the buildings ahead of the impending nightly police riot, and kicked everyone out of the building. So I had to drive INTO the riot zone, to pick up my immunocompromised, black, male, housemate, and get him home safely.

He has to keep this job. The CIPD has destroyed his fine motor function, so he isn't capable of performing a lot of jobs. And the health insurance from this job pays for his monthly infusions, which are something like $5k a piece.

...

I've gotten good at painting my nails.

I was chewing my nails down to bloody nubs, from the stress of every-fucking-thing. So I started painting my nails, so I wouldn't chew them. It worked.

People ask me why I'm stressing. They laugh and smile at my blue fingernails. I smile back.

...

But I can't spend all this time on Hubski; I gotta get back to work.

I've got 4 government contract bids I am working on right now for work (oh yeah... still working full time, from home) that are all due next week, and would normally take me a week EACH to get done "right".

Man. This timeline. It's stressing me out.

But my new office chair arrives sometime today. So there's that.

And the new washer/dryer arrive tomorrow.

And my new bass amp will be here this weekend.

(... can you tell that I have replaced biting my nails with some 'retail therapy'...?)

I don't even know what's going on any more.

I'm cocooning harder than I ever have before. I don't go out. I don't socialize. The only conversations I have with anyone are my wife, my housemate when I drive him to/from work twice a week, and my dad in our once-a-week dinner dates.

Wednesday I went to speak to my contractor friend about building a new deck for my house.

I've always been a super social guy. One of my superpowers was that people just naturally liked to talk to me, and they'd tell me things they'd never tell anyone else. At parties or events, I'd just find a comfy place to sit and chill, and people would come to me all night, sit down, talk, laugh, chat, and then someone else would take their place.

When I would go to shows at bars, I'd find a good spot to hang out and watch the crowd, and the band, and just kinda chill. I was often mistaken for the owner of the place! No matter where I was, someone would assume I was the owner or manager and come up and ask me something, or after chatting with someone for a few minutes they'd ask, "So... is this your place?" I think it's because I've always been comfortable in my skin... just... I dunno, contented with myself. So I don't put off any airs of NEEDing anything... I'm just being calm and enjoying myself.

So. Back to Wednesday... I'm trying to carry on a generic conversation with a guy I know really well, and we have a set agenda of what to talk about: Why is his bid so high, and what can I do to lower the cost?

But holy hell... I was completely unable to hold up my end of the conversation! It regularly got awkward for no reason at all.

And after we finished business, we talked about the chickens and his garden and... at some point I just kinda walked away and got in my car and left! Didn't really say goodbye, or anything (like I normally would), I just kinda... left.

Shit's weird, man.