Fixing Things. Or Not.

 

Okay.  I am at my wits end.

 

For the record:  I understand that my problems are relatively minor compared to 95% of the rest of the world’s problems.  I know that I should be grateful that many of my problems are fixable; after all, I am fond of saying that if a problem can be fixed with money, then it isn’t much of a problem.

 

It’s easy to say.

 

Frances had to buy a new car last week because her old one was totaled while her mother was driving it.  Our refrigerator just died, and since we weren’t home to tend to it in its final hours you can imagine the stench and mess that greeted us when we came home.

 

My car is acting up and it has 160,000 miles on it and I really don’t want to have to buy a new one.

 

As I see literally thousands of dollars slipping from our grasp in a week, at least I know that we are better off for having fixed things.  Oh that we could just offer up thousands of dollars to mend our hearts.

 

We are heading in to the first holiday season without my mom and her favorite holiday – by far – was Halloween. Our family gathered to bake cookies in her honor last weekend, and the mom-sized hole was a gaping wound that I hadn’t really understood was even there.

 

Frances is back to work after a week of being sick, and that’s wonderful, but I still have lingering concerns about her heath. My nephew has been out of school for almost a month with a concussion – which seems odd to me - and my niece is having some health issues too. So I am concerned for them and for my siblings.

 

A friend is going through a difficult break up.

 

I have too much homework to do for school.

 

Kids are mean to substitutes.

 

Some things aren’t fixable.

 

I know I am ranting. 

 

Thanks for reading.