… and the world did not come to an end. I did not die a horrible, excruciating death. no one hates me… It felt like the world was about to end and I was going to die immediately before the phone call I was supposed to make, but neither happened. D was right. Also, the car place does not hate me, and in fact are happy I got in touch with them…
Weird thing is, even thinking back to having called them, my anxiety sky-rockets again.
I have not yet heard back about disability. I really want to know either way. I really need to know. I want to be able to plan my next steps in treatment, and I feel like I am at a stand-still until I find out. This is beyond frustrating and maddening. I hate waiting. I hate not knowing where things will go next. I finally have some hope back, and I can’t do anything with it because I’m stuck listening to elevator muzak while waiting for the letter… I was supposed to call my worker and ask her how the decision process was going, but I could only handle one anxiety-provoking call in a day.
Also, random rant, what’s with rice prices lately?! I used to be able to go to the Indian market and buy a 2-pack of 5lb sacks of really good Basmathi rice for $15… now I have to shell out $25 for a single bag. I like rice. A lot. It sucks to have to buy the crappy American white rice because it’s all I can afford. I want to make the Persian rice my ex-mother-in-law taught me how to make… It’s just not the same with this crappy rice. I asked my ex if she could bring zereshk with her when she comes – it’s another thing I can’t find here. Ooh… and the kabob seasoning… man, now I’m really craving zeresk-polow with fake chicken kabob (the chicken in that recipe is not the same as the one I am used to, but that’s how you make the rice & berries). I haven’t had that in quite a while. I think I need to go find a market that carries everything I need. I miss Persian cuisine.