Sometimes it feels like too much, or not enough: too many things that can go wrong, not enough help.
Last week, the pump stopped working again, and then when the guy came to fix it, he dropped it in the well.
Last night, the ants (not the leaf-cutters, not the huge bitey red ones, not the viciously bitey teeny-tiny don't-see-em-until-they're-biting-the-shit-out-of-your-toes ones, but the red and black ones that don't travel in a proper, antly line, so you can't tell where they're coming from or where they're going) started making a nest in our bed.
I haven't had a coherent thought in about a year.
Ibis hasn't had a weekend in about a year.
Just for instance.
And sometimes I want to give up. Rent. Live someplace with normal ants. And no scorpions. Have time to myself, and municipal water.
And I get through another day, and can't believe my luck.