Fuck You, House.

I've been trying to see the positive in things lately. Not in a global sense because nothing mind bendingly horrible that's ever happened to anyone is really all that bad when you think about how much worse it could be.

Seriously, no matter what the horrible story, there's always one worse. I'm not sure who the hell takes comfort in the fact that someone else suffers more than you do, but apparently this is something which is supposed to give people some sort of gloating peace. This seems unkind to me, to take comfort in someone else's suffering. But then I'm an alcoholic.

This never gives me even a moment of peace. It only makes me feel worse that not only are there my own small and insignificant tragedies in my tiny tiny world. There are other far more profound tragedies which feel about 100 - 1,000,000 times worse than my tiny tragedies. This gives me absolutely no strength, none at all. This makes me weep for the world.

However, I have been trying to think about my small world and all the ways my little corner of it is blessed. Not blessed when compared to everyone else's tiny world, just blessed in my own tiny and inconsequential ways.

When Max had his toenail removed, I couldn't help but think if it had been Maddie staring at her bloody toenail-less toe she would not have handled this news very well. As opposed to Max who created his own superhero out of the ordeal. Every time Max and I have gone to the doctor to deal with his toe, I've thought, "If I were doing this with Madison it would be a lot worse."

When I sent off a check to pay for COBRA coverage, money which was earmarked for all the last minute 'Get This House On The Ever Loving Market Already' things we need to do. As I sealed the envelope I thought to myself, "The last time Logan left a job and we were without insurance there was no option for COBRA." [The place was too small and so not legally obligated to provide it.] "It could have been worse."

Last week when I spent 72 hours trying to vomit my tonsils out of my neck, even in my most miserable times, I reminded myself how much easier it is to vomit your tonsils out of your neck when your kids can get their own snacks, juice and alcohol from the liquor cabinet. If I'd been as sick as I was last week when the babies were young without any help, that would have been another 10 rungs lower into hell. "It could have been worse."

This type of 'Bright Side' thinking gives me some peace. The other kind, where I look around the world and tell myself how much worse just about everyone else has it, makes me want to blow up my house and just call it a lifetime.

Tonight Logan and I finished a really good dinner. Over dinner we commented on how, unlike the norm, we completed about 6 items on our "Get The Fucking House On The Market" list and only added like 4 new things to it. This is progress because usually we're on a 1:1 ratio in completed items to new items added to the list.

As we cleaned our dishes preparing to relax, watch a video (him) and get some work done (me), Logan flipped on the garbage disposal. The garbage disposal made one of those noises like someone's knuckles were caught in it again and so I made the noise I make when someone's knuckles are in the garbage disposal.

"Eeeeeeee! Oooooh! Nooo no no no no noo! Off Off Off!"

I make this noise because it's a lot easier to make those noises than to actually say, "Hey! That doesn't sound good. Turn off the garbage disposal."

Ironicially it was the top of our cocktail shaker, used the night before to concoct lovely cocktails (without a designated parent!) which had fallen into the garbage disposal. Oh the irony is so delicious. So magically delicious.

A garbage disposal doesn't cost a lot. Tomorrow I'll go buy one and Logan will install it tomorrow night in a furious chorus of "What the fuck's!" and "God Damn It's!"

The problem is Logan was supposed to spend tomorrow night clearing out stinking leaves from behind the shed in a furious chorus of "What the fuck's!". I know it could be worse. I know in the scheme of things this is not a big deal. Really, nothing in my life is a big deal. Nothing at all in my life is really all that big a deal.

However, I feel like this house is never going to let us go. Every time I turn around there's another job to be done. An illness to plough through. Money to throw at a toe. A steamer to sear my fingerprints off.

I liked how I felt after I started medication again so much. I thought to myself I could never imagine being so overwhelmed by these stupid tiny things that send me reeling into the abyss. I would never let that happen again. I am strong! I am capable! I will not lay down and cry like a child. I will plow through with energy and strength!

It turns out, medication or not, I am ill equipped for all these things. I am ill equipped for life.

This house is going on the market on April 2nd come hell or high water. (Bring It House. I have no doubt you have both in your power.)

I'll be back when there is a for sale sign in my front yard. I've just got nothing worthwhile to add until then.