This summer has all of the makings of a forced institutionalization before it's over. That's the kind of crazy summer it is shaping up to be. Not just one too many backyard barbeques, no, I'm talking about THAT kind of crazy...the kind where they give you drugs and put you in a room with pink painted walls (it's supposed to be soothing) and play relaxation tapes with the therapist droning on in a monotone voice about breathing deeply and looking for your inner quiet place.
What could possibly be bad enough to threaten to put me over the edge? Well, nothing really. There is no singular crisis. It's just a whole lot of little things going on all at the same time requiring mental energy to process, make decisions about, prepare for or clean up after. For example, Monday was Pete's day off (his holiday for the 4th, since the 4th came on his regular day off) and I decided to stay home with him and get my hours in on another day this week. Boy, am I glad I did. A storm was rolling in and I was in the basement doing laundry when I heard a loud crack of thunder. I decided to make sure my laptop was unplugged and headed up stairs just in time to see Pete running out the patio door in horizontal rain. Our new screened pavillion was being lifted two feet into the air and I charged out after him. It took both of us to hold it down, being instantly drenched and not even stopping to consider the wisdom of this plan considering the high winds, driving rain and lightning/thunder cracking all around us. If we had not been home, I have no doubt the pavillion would have smashed through our bedroom window, torn off the gutter and been smashed to smithereens. But we saved it! It is bent in several places, but it is in tact. (And, thanks to that extra weight I'm carrying, I did not have to fear being blown away in the wind. I held my own, thank you very much. They say that extra weight is a good thing to have around during a famine. Same goes for high winds.) Another round was on its way, so we tore up several patio stones and further anchored the pavillion to the patio (it had been staked already for all the good it did.) This whole scenario took place shortly after we'd dropped off the dehumidifier at Sears, which picked this week to stop working. (When you live up north and have a basement, a dehumidifier is the only way to keep it dry enough to store stuff down there.) And this was a couple of days after we picking up my car from the second trip to the car hospital for air conditioner repairs. It's the summer for broken stuff, I guess.
Okay - so what's the big deal about a few bent poles and a damp basement? Nothing much, but add a ton of stuff on the plate at work, a new service coming at church with a bazillion details to iron out, three wedding showers this summer, wedding stuff (thank God I'm not the mother of the bride), uncertain health issues, and more, all on the heels of lots of company, and there you have it. I have a motto: "There's nothing wrong with me that a couple of weeks in the Bahamas wouldn't cure." Maybe a suite in a mental health facility is more like it...I think I feel a breakdown coming on.
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