I'm a sucker, but it could be worse.

It's official. I am a grade A #1 sucker.
I have been dealing with this ongoing water damage claim with my insurance, with three questionable construction men of sorts, all of which I thought I could trust, all of which thought they could trust me as well, and we all secretly didn't trust each other was what it really boiled down to. It's not uncommon for humans to act on feelings. People often comment that women are more susceptible to acting out on feelings, which leaves men therefore less inclined to act on feelings, and even further less inclined to show emotion. So they say. I have found that to be totally false, unwarranted, lacking of merit, and undeniably misdiagnosed. And I owe it all to a few pipes that wanted to rebel against the unruly and unforgivable raw sewage that forces its path through them. I don't know, but if I was a pipe, I would probably do the same thing. Who wants to have urine running all over them, much less #2? There are people in this messed up world we live in who do, but thankfully and somewhat surprisingly, I do not know them.

To make a long, very boring, and confusing story, digestible (pun intended- get it? pipes, digest, you are laughing inside. I just know you are.)

My house had either a clog in the main line, or a root growing through the pipe or it was demon possessed. I'm fine with entering a plea of a combination of all three. The truth is, I don't know what the heck the problem is with the plumbing in my house. Whatever the issue, it is still unfortunately unknown to me, and I wouldn't be surprised if it was unknown by all interested parties, and I use the word interested very loosely here. What makes an object of desire intriguing to one person is entirely different to another. Essentially, I'm saying that my best interest was not at hand, although I was told repeatedly by all parties involved, the insurers, the fixer uppers, and the friends of the fixer uppers, that I was being carefully looked after. I even told myself that I was being diligent in hiring the right people. After all, all people who were hired were friends of someone I knew. That is scary in itself. It's scary that all three of the people that I hired knew someone I knew, and all three were clowns, untrustworthy, grimy fuckheads. I say that with only the purest of disdain and bitterness. You'll have to excuse my French, but if you were me, and lucky for you you are safely you, you would probably have thrown a chair through your 15th story high rise window while you were still seated on top of it. I have maintained composure somehow. God helps. A lot. I will probably have to sit an extra 32 hours on the white couch, which will match my new white hair when it's all said and done.

In all of this nightmare that has both snuffed out too many of my semi-precious cell phone minutes, and raped me of three hours of my morning routine work day, which accumulate to about a weeks worth of real work, I have learned that people, not all people, but people in general are assholes. People will lie to your face, they will tell you what you want to hear, and they will do it without the bat of an eyelash. People run on emotions and act on feelings. It's probably why we live in such a litigious society, and why we make threats that we don't intend on ever following up on. We want to protect ourselves from the likes of ourselves. It's scary. I hate this world sometimes. By the time I die, I will be either very bitter or truly enlightened, maybe both, but either way, I will hopefully be wise enough to know when someone is telling me the truth. And if I know by instinct, then I will act on intuition, and go with my gut feeling.

Final Thoughts

We don't trust our gut feelings enough, which I believe is really the Holy Spirit. If we listened more without asking the whys and hows and just know that He is in control of all things, we would all be better off, and have less worry, less anxiety, and less need for control. I, for one need to believe God to do the things that he says he will do more often and quit trying to figure out why He does what He does, and just be fine with knowing that He's in control, and everything will be fine. It will all be over soon enough, and these worries of drywall and laminate vs hardwood will be nothing more than a fart in the wind to put it eloquently. And thank God. I can't take much more of this.

VD is finally gone.

I unassumingly let VD (my humorous declaration of Valentine's day), pass by again, but not first without my sending cutesy cards to people I love first. In theory, I covered my bases, and did what I should have done, except one major thing. I didn't send the letter. It's still sitting in my free Columbia Management black faux leather zippered notebook that managed to end up somewhere in the middle of the heaping pile of junk mail and miscellaneous tax documents on my kitchen counter, amass all of the other random papers that should be filed away neatly in some labeled manila folder in a dusty, black fire-proof file cabinet that looks like it was born in the middle of WWII and sold at a general store somewhere in the back of the store near a bathroom.
I think I may have mentioned that because some pipe in my house has decided to have an upheaval and somehow roused all the other pipes to rebel again the rest of the house with him, my house is a wreck- more than normal. My peaceful chaos is now complete chaos, and the only real room in the house that I can find any peace is the bathroom- which I guess, in truth, is not too far from how it normally is anyway. Come to think of it, I'm not so sure why I've let this pipe and water issue rule my psyche the last few weeks, which is creeping into a month now, to think about it even further.
My toaster has come down off it's high horse atop the fridge, and is now meandering with the lowly appliances, like the broken microwave, and the clock radio. My 15 cookbooks which did nothing for me, but thin out my bank account- they were mostly impulse buys, are now scattered across counter space that normally would be reserved for the paper, and since the paper space is being used for that, the papers have made their way to the kitchen table, so the table, as of recently, has not been used for its original design. This whole thing has thrown off my life as I know it. Just one little angry pipe has caused this total disruption.
Anyone who says that life is not a byproduct of cause and effect is a fool. I think that guy with the crazy haircut and mustache was right when he laid out his theory of relativity. One doesn't have to be a scientist to discover that when one thing is broken it causes other things to be affected.
I'm not going to gripe anymore about this problem. The way I see it, and if I keep telling myself this out loud and online, I think it will finally soak in, and be true. If this is the worst problem that I have to worry about, I should be thankful. Yes, I am thankful that I was able to buy a house at at time when most others could not. I got the house that I wanted at the price that I wanted, and I have poured more money than Trump has in his ankle wallet at any given moment,  into said house to make it home.
I haven't been writing much lately either, but I don't know if that is a byproduct of my current housing disarray or of laziness. I'll choose the ladder to keep it honest.
I thought about mailing a letter to my birth mother as Karen suggested for VD. But it was a fleeting thought, just being honest again. I never put any real and quantitative effort into picking out a card and looking for the handwritten, on a piece of white printer card stock,  letter I wrote, than spans the front and back of the page, partially because I already knew where it was. I guess I can maintain that not all is unraveled through this temporary housing set-back. I might have to write another letter because thinking back now, it might be slightly accusatory, and against the proper rules of engagement as deemed by every adoption agency in the country and probably world. People are people no matter from which continent you find yourself breathing air. We all have hearts. We all have minds. We all hopefully have a heart mind connection and if we don't we should be locked up somewhere and labeled with a reactive attachment disorder diagnosis.
Back to the letter. I might have some free time tonight after I get home from this incredible night that I am lucky enough to embark on later today that involves lifting up teenage moms. I am very excited to learn from these young mothers. I was asked to be a mentor to one of them for the night, and possibly ongoing, I'm hoping anyway. And even though I'm supposed to be the one who is leading this young girl who I am paired up with, I have a strong feeling that I will learn more from her than I might be able to teach her. Just when you think you will be the one sharing with someone else, you find out they are sharing more with you. I have learned that lesson many times over. I am happy to be a part of something wonderful, and like I said a thousand times, and like you probably hate to read it, if you don't have a church that you are involved with and crave to go to, you need to find one. Don't let another day go by. People who love God are happy people, and people who are involved in making others happy, lead happy productive lives. We go back to the theory of relativity. Thank you Einstein for pointing out the obvious but making it more complex than DNA. We go back to my adoption. Ain't life grand?