Surreal Becomes Overwhelming

At about 6:30 tonight I hit overload.

Some combination of loneliness, lack of sleep, lack of a place to belong, work and personal stress, laundry, and a clogged bathtub.

I've been in tears, or near tears ever since.

I've unclogged a bathtub (and can I just say that I could kiss whoever invented drano).

I've driven to do an errand, and had a desperate conversation with God while driving.

I've talked (briefly) with a dear friend.

And now, now I'm going to attempt sleep. I'm going to fall asleep with a video of my favorite television show playing, and I'm going to pray that, just for one night, surreal will take a break.

Because I can deal with surreal, or I can deal with practical. But just at this moment I can't deal with both at once. I can't deal with dreams and relational stuff and God things, and still have energy left for laundry and making dinner and a clogged bathtub.

On nights like this I would normally call my best friend and laugh. I'd let intensity, and all that is surreal be put aside for an hour or two in favor of laughter (and possibly triple chocolate freezer cake), and her painting little tiny flowers on my toenails with a toothpick or a bobby pin. Because in a way that few others can, M. would understand why a clogged bathtub was just absolutely the last straw, and brought me to tears, and I would have moved heaven and earth to make sure it wasn't clogged anymore by the end of the night. (It isn't.)

But M. is in Pakistan, bringing babies into the world, and other than a few emails, I haven't talked with her since the beginning of September. So I settled for taking out my latent agression on a bathtub that was totally scummy after a week of slow draining. And then I took a shower. In a clean, unclogged bathtub.

And now, I'm going to try desperately to sleep. (Dreamlessly if I'm lucky.)