head above water

Wmtc sure has been quiet lately, eh?

We're still dealing with the fallout of the flooded basement, and may be for quite some time. Tomorrow contractors will be ripping out carpet, paneling, dry wall and insulation, and assessing what repairs need to be done.

Everything that used to live in the basement is now in our spare bedroom and garage. We're setting up a temporary office for Allan in the living room (he's using kitchen table right now). It could be many months before we have a usable basement again.

A sickening thought has been forming in the back of my mind: we might have to move.

It all depends on what happens with repairs and renovations - and with mould. We love this house - house, backyard, location, good landlord - and we very much want to stay here. But we are renters after all, and one of the advantages of renting is being able to walk away from a housing nightmare. We have until October 1 to make a decision without having to break our lease.

August already was extremely busy for me, as the days count down to both our trip to New Mexico for a nephew's wedding and the start of graduate school. This massive inconvenience is not helping.

When I feel stressed or overloaded, the first thing to suffer is my concentration. I have poor concentration at best, an annoying result of fibromyalgia. Add extra stress and my brain turns to mush. I can't think of words, can't read more than a sentence without my mind wandering, constantly feel not fully awake. It's really hard to write, but I know I feel better if I do. I have to force myself.

For Allan, stress wrecks mood. He doesn't use Oscar the Grouch as his avatar for nothing. A fine time to lose your own space, too.

I've scoured my calendar for things that can be put off - rescheduling even a few things helps a lot - and I'm trying hard to say no to new things that come up. I'm not panicky, not freaking out. I fully know that everything will get done, and done on time. I'd just rather not be doing it.

I do have some blog posts in the hopper. If one of them finds a machete and makes its way through the jungle of my brain, you'll be the first to know.

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