January has been a real...challenge.
My husband, who has had various digestive problems for nearly two years, finally had surgery. Which actually turned out fine (thank goodness). But he was in the hospital for five days, which required a bit of juggling on my part.
About three days after he came home, I had a car accident. It was raining and dark and I had taken another route to work in order to avoid traffic and flooding. I just didn't see the guy. I was fine, mostly, but sore. I took my own visit to the hospital to be safe. The car was...not fine. The insurance company totaled it. I loved that car.
Meanwhile, three days later, my laptop died. Just died. Not the battery, not the power cord. Dead. I was planning on replacing it this year. Later this year.
I mean, overall it's come out okay. Hubby is getting better, I got a new car (along with new car payments, thanks), and I will be getting a retroactive paycheck that should cover most of the new laptop. I had wanted to buy us a new grill, but, c'est la vie. I need the laptop.
This month has been such a comedy of errors that if I wrote it in a book, the editor would laugh me out of the room. I was starting to feel like ol' Will up there in the poster, listening for my narration. Why is it that when we read something that could actually happen but is such a string of terrible luck or coincidence (the accident was just waiting to happen, I swear. I made deliberate choices about the route I took that morning) that we don't believe it? It sounds so outrageous, so implausible on paper, but yet, here I am, living it out.
Just goes to prove. Life is mush stranger than fiction. You really can't make this stuff up.
I hope February is better.