Here's a thing. Remember how I was saying that things fall apart when you're not well? Just last night the toilet in my half-bath decided that it just couldn't get enough flushing. Like that was the coolest thing it could be doing. And doing. And so on. Just this spinning gurgling sound that seemed to be nearly always on the verge of resolution. Of one final twirl and then a bow or a curtsey or something. Ta-DA! But no. No thrilling filling finale. Just filling but not up. A show that must go on. And on. Until I had to go back in, jiggle the handle, wait, and then eventually flush again. Repeat. But this time, resolution.
If I was a different person, I'd spin this into more of a metaphor. Maybe the sands of time, the currents of the ocean that is my soul, something like this. Instead, I'm this person, and I'm telling you about jiggling the toilet handle in my half-bath.
Or maybe that IS the metaphor!!
Writers.
I know.
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