Coping

It's been a hell of a week, and I'm wiped out. Deaths, illnesses, and two car accidents (neither of them mine, and one involving a hearse (!)) have spread the suckitude fairly evenly across seven long days. There are only five more hours left in this week, but I'm still waiting for the other shoe- or shoes- to drop. A house fire would round out the week perfectly.

The universe doesn't really work like that, though. Does it?

I think I've coped with this week fairly well. I've cooked and eaten real food. I've planned meals and shopped using actual grocery lists. I have made and consumed vast quantities of tea. I've gotten out of the house, worked full days, and interacted with other people. And today, I even made a dent in the swamp of yarny chaos unleashed by my Herbology homework.

So why do I feel like something else rotten must surely be coming my way? A moth infestation? An accidental felting? A fatal stabbing with a sock needle? An early death brought on by the anxiety of trying to outguess fate?