Part of me hasn’t wanted to post here at all lately (and as you can see, that part has clearly won until now). I have so many reasons why not to: I’m still working on getting the new site up, I’m too busy, who reads blogs anymore anyway?!? and life is just too complicated to write about these days.
All of those reasons are true (OK, except for the “who reads blogs more anyway?! Sure there are trends to suggest this is so, but whatever) but I guess the most true reason of all is the last. Life has just been sort of complicated lately.
On the one hand I realize that complications can make for rich observations and nuanced writing.
On the other hand: Ouch, all this complication is making my brain hurt something awful.
There are house woes (see below) and random job issues and the logistics of getting by and there’s never enough time.
And then there are illnesses.
In the last month or so I’ve been hit with news of not one but three people being ill. One is a person with whom I’m not close–but I’m fairly close to his wife. The other two people are relatives.
I won’t go into any of the details here out of respect for privacy but let me tell you–that shit puts things into perspective right fast.
Grateful for my health. Grateful for Cory’s health. Dear Universe: I. Am. Not. Taking. This. For. Granted.
The rest of it? The rest of it we just deal with.
The house, the job, the money, the busy, busy schedules.
The house, in particular, has become just that: A house. Not a home.
We are still here and when we are here, cozying up on the couch with a fire and snuggly cats and bad TV or good books then it feels like home. But more and more we are prepared for it to just be a house. For it to just be a place from which we walk away.
I used to really really not want that to happen.
Now I look at its deflated value and then I look over at the inflated bill the bank keeps trying to shove at us (on top of the increasingly inflated mortgage payment) and I think: Meh.
I don’t mean to intimidate everyone with my fancy mumbo jumbo but meh is about as specific as I can get now.
The banks seem hell-bent on making as much of a mess out of this as possible and now, after months and months and months (nearly 2 years to be exact) of trying to jump through every hoop and seal up every loophole –well, I am tired.
It’s pretty clear they don’t want to help us. I would outline it in detail for you but then your head would explode and that wouldn’t be pretty.
So instead I’ll just leave it with:
The house? Meh.
My health? Cory’s? The health of those I love dearly?
Dear Universe: I. Am. Not. Taking. This. For. Granted.