This week I got a letter from some retirement fund account, informing me of a balance I didn't even know I had in an account I didn't even know I'd started. Apparently I'd signed up for automatic deposits in a retirement account through my old job on the East Coast and when I left that job over two years ago I closed out all accounts except this one. (I guess I forgot?) So I've got $1,000 just waiting to be claimed! It was a pleasant surprise, like finding a dollar in an old jeans pocket -- but better. I think I'll use part of it soon to fund a weekend getaway in Napa with my husband, since we've been talking about taking said trip for a while.
The federal building where my husband works went into temporarily lock-down for an hour or so last week when a suspicious package was found on one of the first floors. He texted me while I was at work, letting me know what had happened, and I didn't think anything of it since these kind of things happen all the time (right??). But then he stopped responding to my text messages for a while and I had a mini inward freakout moment at my desk.
Visions of the federal building blowing up with my husband on the 17th floor crossed my mind and I was about ready to leave and inspect the area myself (since I work four blocks away), but then he texted me back (turned out the package was nothing) and all was well again. But for those few long minutes, everything went into slow motion for me (ok, so I have an overactive imagination) and the terrifying thought of no longer having my husband to wake up next to, watch movies with, go on long walks with, talk to and just laugh with truly freaked me out. Is there such thing as loving someone too much? Because after 3+ years of marriage I'm still intoxicated by his presence. I love this, but it makes little things like suspicious packages seem much more dire than they actually are.