Here It Comes

I think it’s because everything that can be done is done. There’s only so much cleaning that can be done because there’s still an open hole in the ceiling and an enormous construction project to happen before cleaning isn’t actually futile.

But I am fucked up today.

I’m convinced my bedroom ceiling is gong to cave in. Like today. I keep thinking I hear the nails popping out–which would be totally unlike what happened in here, and rationally I know that, but I’m about hysterical over it. And I’ve become more and more terrified throughout the morning about the prospect of getting everything fixed. I don’t want them to start fixing the living room until the rest of the house is secure, because I don’t want them to knock the rest of the ceilings loose.

But what if even screwing drywall screws into it is enough to bring it down? What if some dude gets killed trying to fix my mess?

I just want to throw up every five seconds.

And I know–I know–it’s just my brain letting off steam, trying to find some way to deal with this. The way out is through and all that jazz, but damn. It seems like the trick with anything, especially the older you get, is just not letting your fucking brain make you miserable while you’re trying to cope.

I’m not doing that very well today.

But I am waiting on someone to come over and give me an estimate. So, that’s something.


One thought on “Here It Comes

  1. Every once in a while, when I lived alone, I used to think that someone might break into the apartment when I was asleep. I knew how utterly irrational that was, but it would worry me. You know what helped? Giving in to the irrationality but only to the extent of asking myself “if that happened, what would I do to defend myself?” and accepting the irrational answer “stab the person with some scissors, of course!” So I would put a pair of scissors on my nightstand, and for whatever reason that would get rid of the worries and I’d sleep like a baby.

    So maybe what you need to do is ask yourself what you would want to do if the ceiling in another room did cave in, accept an irrational answer to the question, and act accordingly. Put dust covers on things? Have the phone right there to call someone about it? Listen to ’60s singles on your iPod? You can prepare for any of those things, and maybe you’ll feel better for doing so.

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