I informed God my last straw broke upon waking.

My mind and body decided to have a breakdown today anyway.
My dishwasher broke for the second time in a week.
I am living on three hours of sleep.
Don't look too close.
It is not a pretty sight!

I drove to a new doctor I had been waiting three months to get in to see.
Claustrophobia came to call as I waited in the dungeon area to be called.
A lovely panic attack started brewing inside.
Deep breathing and meditation were called on to keep the screaming at bay.
A clicking sound kept me from relaxing too deep.

My name was called after forty minutes. Hurray!

We have to talk, a lady said with worry in her eyes.
I had already told God once today that my last straw was broken.
I was living on the edge and really could not take much more.
Okay, I said.

They informed me the medicine to do the procedure was lost.
Would I like to reschedule?
They knew it was their fault.
All I kept thinking was: WHY DIDN'T YOU FUCKING CALL!
Another appointment was made.

It's raining and foggy.
I am not used to driving anymore.
I just sat in my car and cried.

Home I went.

I ordered some stuff.
It was delivered. But it wasn't.
Phone calls were made.

Tomorrow, I have to take Mom to the wound doctor, an hour away.
I whined to a friend.
More phone calls were made.

I'm out of cigarettes and need sleep.

I washed the dishes by hand.
I cleaned the counters before laying my head down to sleep,
It wasn't to be....

Five little toes became wet.
The search was on.
Where IS the water coming from?
I can be messy washing dishes, but not that messy.

I filled two counters with under-the-kitchen sink stuff.
I lifted the rubber mats slowly.
A sucking sound was heard.
I found the beginning of a slimy mess.

The hot water valve was turned off.
Drip, Drip, Drip...

Up the stairs, I went.
Screams could be heard from waking the dead.
Questions were asked.
Vague answers were given.
Down the stairs, I went.

The cold water has now been turned off.

With the whirling sound of fan blades, I hung my head and gave up.
It was two in the morning, once again.
I had nothing left.

No straws.
All broken.
Smashed and ground beyond even wheat.

I dragged myself up to sleep.

I slept for another three hours.
I have not left the house.
I still have no straws left or Fucks to give.
Though I am the owner of a faulty router.
More phone calls were made tonight.

Three essential things must happen tomorrow.
It has become my job to see it through.

No one got the memo I was:
Done.
Toast.
Broken.

I am still in charge of making my small world go Brrrrrr...

Moral:
Never tell God he broke your last straw.
He will prove you otherwise.
He will make you find the strength to go on.
And live another day so the router can be replaced.

And who doesn't want a new router!?!

Peace!

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