Marissa Lingen (mrissa) wrote,
Marissa Lingen
mrissa

One of the most pernicious lies people tell is that God does not send you more than you can handle. If this was true, it would mean that we had an Almighty Accountant of Pain -- a colossal jerk and frankly not very good at the job, considering the number of people who have breakdowns. "Oops! Sorry, monkey! Signed, God." No. Not how it works. "You've already had two people in your family diagnosed with terminal illness this week, but you look sturdy, so let's go for three!" Wrong. (That is not the case with me. Just an example.)

Unfortunately, crying "uncle" does not seem to do any good. Still more unfortunately, most of the major factors that were stressful last time I said that are still stressful. And there are new ones since.

I am not even doing well enough to add a sarcastic huzzah to that, to find something clever or flippant to say. Earlier this afternoon I was going with humor dark enough that there's some debate as to whether information can escape from within a certain radius. I'm not capable of that just now, which is too bad, as it might get me through the two remaining tasks for the day (1. feed dinner to self and pup; 2. fetch markgritter).

Tell me something good. Please.
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