Honestly, sometimes I think the universe sends me crap to deal with as a way of encouraging me to keep writing. Sure, a minor life crisis is great blog material, but truth be told, I don’t need to suffer for my art. I’d be more than happy to press on with little stories about whatever mundane foolishness happens to be rattling around in my head.

Well, all I can say is I had it coming. I asked for this. Why just the other day I said to Neil, “What in the name of god am I going to put on that blog next week? You cooked, I ate, end of story.” Neil, as usual, didn’t have too much to say, but the universe said a mouthful. “Here, I got something for you: a total shitstorm. More uncertainty and existential angst than you can shake a stick at. Think of the fun people will have reading about that!”

At any rate, it’s been a busy time here. That tends to happen when your world is turned on its head. We’re trying to get to that place where we see the events of late as an opportunity instead of a problem. So far, a steady diet of wine and dark chocolate have proved minimally effective, and the best option we’ve come up with is winning the Swiss lottery.

And, as if things weren’t bad enough, I somehow shrunk my best black sweater. I mean how much can one woman be expected to bear? I’m not sure what I’m more worked up about, having to re-evaluate my entire life or a delicate classy wool turtleneck I’ve nurtured for over 5 years that now reaches a spot 5 inches above my belly button. Oh the humanity.

Anyway, I don’t have too much to say about it all other than what the hell ever. We have some major decision making to do. We may be moving yet again in the near future, god help me. I have to plot a course back to the land of the working, god help us all. At least I have a potential title for a second book: Finding Me Living in my Mother’s Basement.