It started simply, just as any dam breaching starts: with one small drop. I wake up late. There is barely one hour until leaving-time. I must bake my daughter’s cake. I’m uncoffeed; in remote control. Preheat oven 350, mixer, cake mix, eggs. No eggs. Shoot. Give up on the cake and chalk up failure number one.
I’ll install my software. Enter personal information; scrape gray matter off of plastic card, type in code. Code not valid. Check the numbers, try again. Code not valid. Have husband check the numbers. Code still not valid. Add failure number two and move on.
With fifteen minutes left before I have to leave the house, all I want is to take a shower. No bathrooms available. No time for a shower. yet another failure in a morning of failures. Nothing I have tried to do has worked. It’s only 8:45 AM and I’m sitting on the side of my bed, crying.
But like any dam breaching, it isn’t the tiny drips of a broken morning routine that bring on the tears. It is the tumultous waters behind the façade, churning for months on end; and then when most vulnerable, hit by an unexpected emotional rainstorm.
Read the rest of the story! Visit Weekly Brief – The Rayon Rainstorm | Toss the Typewriter.