Life is Never Pretty

I felt hope.  I felt grateful.

And it came sweeping over me with such gentle surprise.

You see, I've been sinking.  We haven't been in the best health over here for a little while.  I shower once a week.  Literally.  I don't get dressed.  Heaps of dirty and clean laundry are scattered.  I think I vacuumed last in 2011.  The bottom of my white porcelain sink is orangy/brown.  We eat food out of boxes.  A new herd of fruit flies have moved in.  Big ones.  Twice the size of normal ones.  And they don't like my fruit fly trap.

My bathroom is ripped to shreds.  It has a functioning shower and toilet.  But no sink.  Which means nobody washes their hands anymore.  Nor do we brush our teeth.

The sheets on the bed?  Thank goodness Big D hasn't brought me "down-town" in awhile.  Otherwise we'd be sleeping in crunch.  Because that's how much I'm sinking.

There is no dinner.  There are no thoughts of dinner.

And sometimes I sleep.  And sometimes I don't.  It all depends on how gracious Ed is.  And if the stars align in their magical pattern.  And if "cozy" (his blanket) is perfectly perched upon body.  And if he can find his "hole" in blue.  And if pink cat is present, but not hogging his personal space.  And whether or not he needs to pee or have a drink.  Or a snuggle.

And that's just during the night.

The days are far worse.  With so much screaming and crying.

And Murnice fights me every second.  If I take two breaths, she's off and playing.  Because there is nothing more fanciful, than to play when there's school to do.  Elaborate and thorough games.

But today, as I was sitting, taking my daily, convulsive, diarrhea-squirt session, I felt it.  I felt a wave of gratitude.

I don't know where it came from.  Or why it decided to show up.  Or why it thought I was worthy.  But I really liked that fleeting moment.  I really liked feeling hopeful.

Honestly I didn't realize I was sinking this much, until I breathed fresh.

I wouldn't mind a prayer or two.

The end.