So on Tuesday we’re going to London. And then on Sunday we going to Paris — it’s my bucket list-always wanted to go-never been there trip to Paris.
Paris is flooding. Museums are closed. Tourists are being turned away. Now, if I were one of those charmed people for whom everything always turns out well, by the time we get there, the flooding would be over and everything would be fine. What do you think the chances of that are? I had already resigned myself to the fact that there would no doubt be rain and wind and dreariness in London and Paris, because, you know, otherwise life would be good. Which it isn’t. Flooding? No, I never even thought that up.
And my computer has no internet AGAIN. I’ll spare you the story but this has been going on for about 6 months. One day it connects and the next day it doesn’t. I’m sick of it and considering driving my car over the brand new computer and router. I obviously don’t need a computer. I can use Jim’s. So why wear myself out over something the universe has decided I don’t need. (Or don’t deserve, or sees as one more way to fuck me over.)
This morning I tried altering a pair a jeans that didn’t fit. They are now in the garbage, so you can imagine how well that project went. The pair of shorts I tried but failed to hem up the other day are now at my sisters and she is going to hem them for me. I can’t even put in a hem anymore.
What can I do? I can read. I can read books and nothing goes wrong. Therefore, it seems like sitting in the house reading is the thing I’m safe doing every day for the rest of my life. And nothing else. Everything else goes wrong. Every little insignificant thing is a trial. Every. Little. Thing.