The dryer isn't working. It has been in trouble for weeks. We run a load while we sleep and sometimes wake to cold, wet clothes. The heating element isn't working, but each time I think it's shot, I send the laundry around for another tumble and it works. Last night though, things stayed cold right through.
I write three morning pages every day. They are practice, therapy, and the beginnings of ideas. This morning I wrote of things breaking down, holes in my life, and dreams that keep me from sleep. It was all connected.
My basement writing nook isn't far from the dryer. This morning I ran the dryer hoping for luck. Towels tumbled while I wrote page one but, but the machine stayed cold. Midway through page two I left a message for service, thinking, okay what now?
It wasn't a reasoned question so much as a cry, like there weren't any good choices and life is difficult. My life can be difficult but not very. I mean, big deal, the dryer is broken. I started page three thinking, I'll go to the laundromat. That's where I am now, typing this. The clothes are drying. The whole thing cost a couple of quarters. Real big deal.
Thursday a guy will look at the dryer. He'll fix it or tell me to buy a new one. My mother will come over to let the guy in since I'll be at work. By Thursday afternoon I'll know the shape of this problem. Right now, I only know the vague outline. The dryer doesn't work is all I know.
Well, no, I also understand that I've called for service, asked Mom for help, and I have survived worse things than a broken dryer. There are holes in my life and reasons why I have trouble sleeping, but the dryer is easy. I might as well savor this whole experience from problem through solution, and everything in between. As far as I can see, stuff like this, well, that's life.