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May 11, 2007
Agoraphobia. Maybe if I opened the door to my apartment as the muscles in my back knit themselves into bamboo I would find a purpose. So the warm wind seeped in and there was a cross breeze. I organized my journals, threw out my laundry and folded them again. I scrubbed my tub again, cleaned the sink, scheduled a phone interview with a recruiter next week. "Just cleaning up for the weekend, eh?" He chuckled, did he know what I was going through? I hoped so only if it was normal for unemployed people. Not if I was anxious.