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My daughter Cee used to tell me "Mama you're not afraid of anything." I remember her saying that one time in particular after I had killed a snake with a hoe after I found it slithering around on the carport. She didn't know there was a huge lump in my throat the whole time, and the hair on my neck was standing up with fear. But there was no one else to do it, so I had to.
But the older I get, the less able I am to "bend with the breeze" so to speak, to conquer and adapt and go on.
I am an old tree that shudders in the wind, limbs creaking, waiting for breakage and toppling. That's what makes me neurotic--that and living alone with no one to call on when things go wrong--no husband, children and siblings estranged--when you're in that situation, everything, large and small is up to you to deal with alone.
Every day brings something. A few days ago I noticed a "burning hair" smell in the car when I turned on the engine. It was a strong odor. Got Western Auto guy to look under the hood--couldn't find anything. Took car to Honda dealership. They couldn't find anything either--but something's brewing under the hood you can bet on that.
Day before yesterday, noticed water dripping off a large section of concrete slab on one end of the house. My cousin, a plumber, is here now. It seems there's a leak in the plumbing between the wall and brick, and it's oozing out. He's got his head under the sink now trying to figure out how to fix it. I whined to him "Why can't things ever go smoothly?" (And other "Poor Little Ole Me" stuff.) He said these things happen to everybody.
Living alone is maybe the reason I think sh*t only happens to me. Sometimes life seems too hard to bear and wonder what's the point of going on? Just a succession of one trouble after another. I actually don't know why I'm still hanging on. Susil
