The Ditch

 "'Cause I shake shake shake shake alone,
I'm shaking every night and day.
Will my shake, shake, shaking ever go away?"

Lawyers and house showings and appointments and waiting and waiting and waiting.

Every day now feels like the one before where I wake up and talk myself through the simplest tasks.

"Drink some water.

Brush your teeth.

You need your mouse at the office.

Put on deoderant.

Change your shirt.

The pants can stay because they're his and comfy.

Now:

Write that email.

Send in that document.

Call Dr. Parsons and tell him the prescription didn't work.

Counseling is at 5.

Check to make sure the door is shut behind you.

Check again."

And off we go.

The housing market is crazy.

Right on time.

Today I looked at a house.

Not our house on Wells Crescent with the hot tub and pool and all of those rooms we said had to be painted new colours to make it our home.

Nope, this one is in Kilbride.

Slanted floor, scratched cabinets, flooring needing replaced, two decks needing replacement.

I don't know whether to cry or laugh but both seem to come at the same time.

We were so happy and had everything laid out.

The new bedroom set would come first and then we'd move it into the new house.

We're both planners.

But life doesn't give a fuck about your plans or lists or timelines.

It's easier for it to step in and burn it all to the ground in one split second.

What can you even do when you're doing as much or more than is physically and mentally possible but the ditch keeps getting deeper?

"If I can't make it out of this ditch,
I better make a home of it.
If I can't get down off this ledge,
I better make a home of it..."

Thanks for the advice, Dave Hause.

Don't mind if I do.