collapsing into
a cloud of my built up stress
feels like giving up

Fuck.

Don't swear, I'm told.  Really?  Let me describe my Sunday:   I woke up to realize my fridge was dead - the realization hit slow and then hard - panicking to figure out what I could save and not save.  I rushed Bob through his care - hoping to have him up and dressed before a repair person came - and he ended up falling and hitting his head against the wall.  The repair person was late - my son-in-law's parents lent me a beer fridge and cooler.  The repair guy delivered bad news - 400+ for a motherboard and a few days of living out of a beer fridge and cooler.  Relieved, I was putting away the dishes when the cupboard door came off in my hand.

Fuck.

Today, the repair guy is coming to fix the fridge, the cupboard door is still leaning against the lower cabinets, I'm knee deep in preparing for a class I'm delivering on Friday and my husband's goose-egg has gone down.

I can hear my pulse in my ears. 

Fuck.