I am truly not certain how much more I can stand. The house is beginning to be stitched back together, but I wake to the smell of sewage. It would seem a pipe has broken underneath the house--the same house they had to re-plumb through the attic because they couldn't work in the small crawlspace below. What will they do with this, I wonder? And at what price?
My adrenals are working hard. I am jumpy and can't think properly. Surely it can be fixed, I try to tell myself. Everything can. But imaginative thinking overwhelms me. A life in ruins suddenly.
Are there people who can take such things in stride? Oh, yes. . . the tremendously rich. I thought that I might get ahead soon, but I am falling farther and farther behind. I am afraid to check my horoscope. When will it end, dear god. . . .
I am in deep despair. I might change the name of the blog to Job's Lot.
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