My Heart Loves This Dance

Life Goes On in all its Messiness

I was extremely upset this morning.   I had slept till 10 and woke up wet and hot.  Not sexy hot; Florida Hot...   The men had left me early to go to work and school and the dog had pushed her way in or out our back bedroom door, leaving it wide open and the hot summer sun had climbed in and slept on top of me for hours.   The air conditioner was disgusted and decided to go cool other rooms and I woke up with open pores and mosquitoes drinking  at my ankles.   I slapped a mosquito off my leg and my own blood exploded from its body.  My hair hung like a wet mop wig ringing my face.   There was no coffee by my bed.  This princess had been abandoned to cope on her own.

I would not last long in a jungle.  


So I walk around in a daze, taking in the ambiance of a squalid chaotic house that looks like frat boys live in it. I went to the coffee maker and it had cold mud stored in the carafe.  Yeah. I'll drink it in a bit.  I make a two second cheese sandwich, not bothering with mustard, lettuce, tomato, anything civilized.  I decide to take the little extra time to remove the white wax paper, since it slows down on the chewing.   Lifeless low carb bread, left out open to the air and muenster cheese.  I get fancy and offset the one slice from the other, making a star with it.

On Friday we were served our foreclosure lawsuit papers and we have only 20 days to respond to it. so it means it's time to hire a lawyer. Today.  No more delay.   I must deal with this huge issue right now.  

Sitting at the table, I flip through a stack of ads for foreclosure attorneys.  Shiny ones, glossy booklets,  modest recycled paper, how will I decide which one to pick to sludge more of our savings to.  I go for location, and pick the one who looks like a stubby boxing manager from Brooklyn.  Oh boy.

but I don't call yet, cause I am near tears and I will not blubber to a phone girl about my dashed dreams and feelings of hopeless and confusion.  I'm not going to let anyone see me cry or weak.   I wait for the coffee to kick in and I go get dressed.

Red expensive T-shirt that gives  me courage, I'd slipped it on purpose.  Brush to my mop that has since dried and now stands at 90 degrees to my head.  I slick it down.   I get my kick ass support bra on, by hooking it together, stepping into it, pulling it up my knees, sliding it past the thighs, flipping it over the belly and finally seating it on my chest.  Someday I need to make a youtube of that process. It's a simply brilliant adaptation to being unable to twist my bra around from the back to front at waist level like most women put on their bras.  Who would of thought of coming up from the bottom like that?  It involves almost no pain, and anytime I can get dressed without pain is a good day.  Plus it makes me laugh, every single time.   My bra seems happy to be gliding along my curves and rarely snags or tangles that way.  It just jumps up ready to be supportive.


I've got my shoes on now, panting and red faced.  My mosquito bites have stopped itching so bad.  Still I'm not ready to face people, conversations, decisions...  I go look for my online buddies.  JC I know is going to be busy and blissed out.  I refuse to dump my angst on him, even if I would be able to find him on.   Reese.. a note tells me she's at labs.  No distractions to be had. 

I got to find me some calm and courage.   Ah. the blog.  I re read the last 20 days.   I grin.  I remember.  I imagine.   I draw fuel from it.   I relax and giggle.  My mind starts to work correctly.  I'm awake and alert now.


So I read a few more lawyers advertisements,   I bite my lip and choose.  I call and get an appointment.   Today at 6 pm.   The final acts in our long foreclosure drama are scheduled. 


I sure didn't want to do it, but I did.   I"m so proud I got the best of my anxiety and second guessing and hand wringing.  No one will know I had been so upset.   My secret is safe with you, right?