And When It Rains, It Pours

You have those moments sometimes in life where it’s all “this is good this is good I’m confused this is good this is good”: Bubbles of shit between, sure; but mostly good. And then it rains for days and as you check the flooding basement, you hear a boom from above and the ceiling in the kitchen caves in and out pours years old leaky pipe solution of toilet paper and paper towels: Streamers of disgust draping down to celebrate how much shit is happening in your life. Yes!

I don’t understand. Life tests us. Everything will be good for a while; we go years with no death, no major complications. Then suddenly BOOM! Things add up. Aaaand sinking. Everything begins to unravel and you try your best to gather it up in a ball and take it home and put it back together and just when you think you can make it work some dumb cat comes along and thinks “let’s play with this string” and the whole fucking thing falls apart again. You swear the cat would only have to look at it and it unravels - the smallest twitch (that normally would be meaningless) and your eyes well up with tears: The sorrow of loved ones weighs on your heart. And you’re just kinda left on your bed, alone, staring blankly at a wall wondering “well shit – now what” while that fucking cat has the time of its life you and swear to Jesus it’s laughing at you. But we just feel so despondent at the point that it doesn’t even matter. We don’t want to eat. Get out of bed. Move - not even to kick the cat. (Well...maybe to kick the cat.) We just want this part to be all over and the water to recede and the shit to start unshitting and the streamers to burn and it start to be “this is good this is good I’m confused this is good” again.

And hopefully we won’t be so afraid of the shit storm cycle to hit again that we won’t enjoy the sun.

That’s life. Without the death valleys, you can’t appreciate the stunning mountains. But, man, do I need a hug.