basketcase

last week i moved into the place i'm house sitting for the summer. it's a beautiful old house in forest acres for a professor that i truly love and admire, who is on leave currently on a fulbright in germany. unfortunately, several things have gone wrong. in the first couple of days i probably saw 10 cockroaches (palmetto bugs, so they say). i saw a wolf spider. there was a gas leak seeping into the master bedroom. there's a big and active hornets nest in the swimming pool shed. but, worst of all: there have been fleas. i'm currently in battle. hopefully i've conquered. however, it has undone me in ways that, well, undo me. i have become a totally paranoid freak. i can't find comfort or consolation inside of me. i will spare you the details, because sharing them would be too ridiculous for too many reasons. i wish i could be funny about it. it would probably be better for me to make this a funny post. oh well.

anyhow, i was driving back from campus to home sweet home and i thought of a book i really love: the hiding place. it is an autobiographical account two sisters' experience during world war ii in prison camps. they have a flea problem. i recommend the book if you haven't read it. or even if you have. i won't post it here because i can't stand the idea of being melodramatic enough to even think of comparing my situation to theirs.

but, like with any trial, i wish i knew what i was learning. i feel so lonely.

anyhow, whatever! this will pass! and i will feel like an idiot for being so shaken by it. can we fast forward to that moment? to the moment that i feel like an idiot? because that would be great.