It is Saturday, around five p.m. and I'm a bit confused. My son told me that he would be living with a friend, this summer, before he goes off to college, in August, so I put in my notice to vacate this apartment that we have been living in for the last eight years. Now, my son is telling me that his friend and he probably won't be able to get a place because no one will let them live in their house or apartment for just three months. Well, duh, but you can't really blame the kid; he has never shopped for his own place to live in, before. I think that we have decided that he will try to live with his mother for the two and a half months before his freshman year at SAIC in Chicago begins.

I fret things too much. Fretting things does not accomplish anything.
I need to fret less.