Job's Lot

I am truly not certain how much more I can stand.  The house is beginning to be stitched back together, but I wake to the smell of sewage.  It would seem a pipe has broken underneath the house--the same house they had to re-plumb through the attic because they couldn't work in the small crawlspace below.  What will they do with this, I wonder?  And at what price?

My adrenals are working hard.  I am jumpy and can't think properly.  Surely it can be fixed, I try to tell myself.  Everything can.  But imaginative thinking overwhelms me.  A life in ruins suddenly.

Are there people who can take such things in stride?  Oh, yes. . . the tremendously rich.  I thought that I might get ahead soon, but I am falling farther and farther behind.  I am afraid to check my horoscope.  When will it end, dear god. . . .

I am in deep despair.  I might change the name of the blog to Job's Lot.