The truth? The truth is a raging monster is casting a huge shadow on my doorstep but I effing refuse to open the door. What reason on earth do I have to be fighting back tears? A dishwasher put in crooked, glaringly misaligned, and no one but me can see? Please. This is not what most people would call a problem. Granted, most people aren't OCD. Then again, most people don't even have dishwashers. Some people have real problems.
Some days I feel as if I am on a strumming tightrope, and balance is a fragile and iffy thing.
On a brighter note, the girls have gone shopping. They left out of here skipping chirping laughing happy. I'm going to try to be more like them. We are going to a concert tonight. Just us three chickadees. Yes.