The air quality is atrocious. I’ve got headaches and a sore throat in the house. The prednisone is making it harder to cope. I took a shower and came down to find Ruffi had shit on the kitchen floor and Grumpy had pissed under the recliner. Daddy is prostrate on the bed upstairs in so much back pain He can hardly stand it. The temps are outta control with winds picking up and worsening fire threats and reports coming every hour on the hour.
Prior to the fires starting last week, Daddy and I booked the kitchen remodel. I’ve started packing up the kitchen so it’ll be ready. Boxes and stuff everywhere. I can’t cook or wash dishes. My already insane “kitchen” is worse than ever.
I’m doing my best to stay calm, though it’s not working well. I’m exhausted. Angry. Overwhelmed. I got a charming letter from the trustee on Friday which just put the cherry on top, too.
I’m really, really ready for something to give and things to get easier for a good long while. I thought it had finally come only to be in the eye of the storm yet again. Literally. In the eye of a fucking fire storm.