Thursday, February 27, 2020

kinder weather

It was early this morning, before sunrise, that wind roared down the mountain and blew the front door off the hinges and shattered the wood. Gibson jumped up into bed and held onto me so fast I am not sure he wasn't what woke me instead of the BANG. I tried to screw the dented hinge back on, but it broke once again in another gust. Now, a few hours later, the bluster has turned into a squall of snow covering everything on the farm in fresh powder. Including the broken door. Including the truck.

Yesterday while driving home from the post office I felt my truck's brake peddle collapse all the way to the floor. It was as if the brakes were disconnected from the tools that work them. A bit panicked, I realized they worked at a tap or a stomp, but no play in between. The brake lines were shot. I drove home slow and nervous, but safe. She's parked in the front yard and I am waiting to hear back from my mechanic. I know I need to get a newer vehicle soon, but right now that isn't an option. So she'll have to be repaired again - back in the shop the second time this month. Going outside to a muddy farm, a broken door, a broken truck...

I want this month to be over. I need the next 48 hours to last forever.

I have a doctor's appointment for an infection on Friday. Even with decent sales coming in this week I need to decide if it's smart to go and get a prescription or wait it out. Yesterday I thought I was going to *just* make it. But I am hundreds below the mark now if I want to go to a doctor and drive. If I wanted to just mail in a payment I am still a coupe hundred below unless I want to risk the check bouncing. This is America. Feeling safe is for people with bigger bank accounts, stronger hinges, newer vehicles, and health insurance.

Feeling capable without those things is for me.

I do feel like I have the energy to keep going. I am writing this without a fire going this morning because even though it's cold outside it isn't cold enough to use what is left of the firewood. But the coffee is hot and if I can make the money today and tomorrow I need I can push through. I can post date the check at least for this month and earn the cushion I need in the meantime. I have been here before. You all know that. I know that. It's getting harder on me.

But I do want to know what it is like to be a little more comfortable. To have some savings. To know that every bill this month and even next month is paid for. I haven't had that level of safety in nearly 8 years. I don't regret my choice. I don't regret the farm. I don't regret going outside half an hour ago and using a screwdriver to force longer screws into the frame of a broken door. But I do need it to get easier soon. This is wearing me down creatively, physically, emotionally, and I can't tell if that's winter's ending making me feel helpless or a sign that I need to write and write NOW. Write something that will save this farm.

I feel pretty beaten this morning. Soon as I think I'll be able to mail in that mortgage check something like a doctor or dentist appointment, a truck repair, a screaming bill I can't put off - those things take over and set me back again. Which is everyone reading this. I know my life isn't any harder than any of yours and we are all figuring out what to prioritize first, how to get through the day.

So that is what I am going to do. I'm going to keep trying and figure it out one day at a time and hope for kinder weather and luck soon as possible.