I’m sitting on the toilet with my eyes shut. I don’t dare open them. If I open them I’ll find out which universe I’m in, and I’m not ready for that yet.
It’s a wet and grey Sunday in February. One of those days when you open the curtains and you just want to get back into bed. But we got up. And found the leak in the roof.
I was already stressed that I was late and the weather had added a touch of depression, and now entropy was conspiring to make my Sunday even worse. We noticed the yellowing plaster first, then we found a hole in the roof. We didn’t know how long it had been there, how much damage had been done, how much this would cost us. We were both upset. I said something snarky, my husband said something snarky back, then we were arguing.
It was damp and cold and I needed to pee. So I left my husband on the roof and came back inside to take the test. And now I’m here, sitting on the toilet, with my eyes shut.
It all reminds me of Schrödinger’s cat, ever heard of it?