Today has been a day of 52-pick-up - the game my brother never tired of playing yet yelled at me when I turned it back on him.
It wasn't a day of major catastrophes but rather many small ones, an early morning wake up call of bloodied consequences. The clowns were already in the big top and I was still in the ticket booth hyping the show. I'm now in the process of doing laundry so I can sleep in the bed and not on the couch tonight. The Man was rather understanding about it all and is patiently waiting for the dryer bell to go off. Hopefully he'll offer to make the bed and remember to put the pillow cases on all the pillows.
As if that wasn't enough, the ancient dishwasher that came with the house decided to head for the big appliance graveyard. Sure, it filled with water but that's where it stopped, and the water overstayed its welcome. A bucket or three later and the dishwasher was empty - empty of water and of the still-dirty dishes. Right now, I can't afford a new one. Christmas was tight and while I'm still in the black, my bank account is not as comfortable as I'd like.
This is one month after my main level toilet decided to blow a gasket (okay not a gasket but the little doohickey that keeps the tank and toilet together and functioning cohesively. It was no longer adhesive. I'm no plumber and I'm certainly not a handy girl. I've learned that about myself. While I think I'm independent (mostly), I know there are things better left to the professionals. It does, after all, involve a lot of water that could end up on my floor (and it did for a time).
I've been in this house for the past eight years and it seems that everything that could go wrong has. A year ago, on New Year's Day, the upstairs toilet decided to leak and drip, drip, drip onto the floor and through my kitchen ceiling. Dry wall and spackle later and I no longer have a large gapping hole in my kitchen ceiling. It's not the first time. That was five years earlier just before I overhauled the bathroom. It seems the contractors I hired decided that a wax seal was not an important item to include in the whole bathroom package.
Oh, and there's the intermittent stove element that decides when it will and will not work. There's no rhyme or reason, I'm really not sure what to think. I think I've offended it somehow. Walk on over to my sliding glass doors and a look down at the laminate will unearth another issue - moisture in between the floor boards and a slight raise in the floor.
There was a time when I considered the house my pride and joy. I had bought it, paid for it and managed it for the last eight years. I had lost a house in the divorce, having to bid farewell to a large sum of money and some pride to move back with my parents. A year and much saving later and I was in my own house. By myself and it was proof that I could survive on my own.
I still can survive. Perhaps this is just a blip or perhaps it's a sign that it's time to find something less flimsy and more in line of what I can handle.