When a Lump of Coal Turns Into a Fig
This kind of fig , since I've made this post title inscrutable to anyone not in the FIG club. It's been a bit of a tough week. I'm in the middle of a two-and-a-half-week husbandless stretch, on the heels of a six-month period when he's been gone about half the time. I'd like to think that I am a strong independent woman, but little parts of my body and brain and house and car keep catching fire or shutting down, and I am feeling demoralized and incompetent. An incomplete list of fuckery includes 27 cm of snow over three days - friend's son and neighbour and Sam the Plow Guy all helped, but I tried to shovel a bit more than I could handle, which made my lower back and tweaked knee worse, a badly cut finger due to my own stupidity (don't ask - at least it's not on the middle finger I need to put in my contact this time), a dead car battery twice, a clogged sink, and a worsening sense of dread and gloom. I've had issues with my knee in the past, but i...