So once upon a time I recall reading a piece about life’s most stressful events, maybe it was the top ten or something, and at that point in time, which was probably right around fifteen years ago, I had like, eight of them going on in my life.
Divorce, death in family, long and drawn out, big change (finishing up that Ph.D.), looking for a job, lots of interviews, death in family 2 (cat, life companion), post divorce torrent and illicit love affair, a mess, moving, all sorts of things, not little, big, all at once, and there it was, in ink, telling me that any one of these will freaking wreck you, and all I could think was f*ckity f*ck f*ck, this just sucks.
It’s not quite in that place now, my life, no, but gosh, there’s a sibling near death, probably, issues with it, personal, decisions about life companion (okay, a cat), moving (want to, fine), but trying to sell the house (stressful), the Master Plan, in play, tenuous, perhaps, post decision back gaze, useless, but the van vs. the Prius or the van, that one, in general, fine, I’m sure, no biggie if it’s not, so yes, this general right now stress thing just sucks.
We won’t mention the POTUS, the environment, humanity, non human life, water, air, the world killing machine, those little concerns, no, why bother?
And then today, a showing of the house, way past the time of day civilized human beings conduct business, 1930 hours, heck, I’m usually in bed by then, but fine, there’s that stress thing, need to sell the house, so fine, I’ll even tidy up a whole lot, make it look super pretty, and as I’m organizing and such and getting ready for the show I start thinking about where’s my wallet and in this perfectly organized house, I can’t find my wallet.
And all I can think is f*ckity f*ck f*ck, this just sucks, can my life get any more stressful? Driver’s license, credit cards, the all important debit card that can be a credit card, automobile registration, probably, I don’t know, I’ll have to look and f*ckity f*ck f*ck. F*ck.
The last place I recall having it is either at the gas station getting that $2 worth for the can so I could cut the front lawn or when I ordered the pizza, both yesterday, and I’m remembering kind of walking back to the van with the wallet in my hand and if I left it sitting there somewhere, it’s not in the van, it’s nowhere in the freaking house that I can find it, no drawers, not in the clothes I had on, not out in that not so much of a mess any more in the garage, nowhere near my desk where I do the computer stuff and all I can think is f*ckity f*ck f*ck. F*ck.
But then while the folks were wandering around the house and I was being antsy and digging my hands down into the seat cushions and thinking of any possible place I had not yet searched, the house is quite stark, not all that much stuff inside really, at all, I’d gone through every drawer, was starting to think seriously about how now (tomorrow) to deal, the steps, I know them, thinking how interesting this, in terms of those credit cards, when suddenly there, there was a spot I’d not yet looked, that spot in the headboard of the bed where the bandanas live, and eureka, there it was.
Eureka. That is so much nicer than f*ckity f*ck f*ck. F*ck. Life is good, even if they don’t buy the house.