Going It Alone - Barbara Jordan

Since my divorce, I've often thought of those few simple words uttered by my shrink. "You'll have good days and bad days." Umm yea, like DUH.

Here is a glimpse of the bad days:

Sometimes I look around the house and believe that everything in sight is either broken or in desperate need of fixing:

The showerhead
The sprinkler system
The printer
The Internet connection
The drain in the upstairs bathroom
The dishwasher
The second shelf in the refrigerator, hanging by one hook
The latch thingy that hold the chimney flue open
The pilot light on the furnace
My I pod
The ceiling fan in the kitchen
My daughter's bicycle tire

And then there are the days where the slightest things are completely overwhelming and it seems like an easier chore to move to a new house, than to clean the fridge.

The dog poop piling up in the yard
Taking the garbage to the curbside on Sunday nights
Paying the electric bill
Getting the oil changed in the car
Pulling out that one shriveled plant in the pot on the front porch
Getting the kids up on a school morning
Going to Trader Joes
Making coffee

Just when I think I might either collapse or start soliciting hunky guys that look like they work in construction, so my sprinkler system can get fixed, I notice myself singing along in the car to Michael Buble's chirpy "I just haven’t met you yet." I hate that song.
More than once I've prayed to god I don't know anyone in the car next to me.

I think it’s a sign that my brain is starting to relax a little (either that or it has atrophied to the point of no return) my guard has dropped a few notches, and I'm willing to act like a fool again. The good days are starting to catch up with the bad. Duh.