Eye of the Storm

Someone recently said to me, "You are like the eye of the storm right now."

I'm telling you, people, I am stirring it up wherever I go right now. I turn to the left, and the dust erupts. I turn to the right, and the leaves scatter. I turn around, and an avalanche falls. I walk forward, and glass shatters.

I'm trying not to take it personally, but a few too many of these sorts of chaos have happened for me to really believe it is purely coincidental.

My most recent theory is that I am living a really, really intense version of the old adage: the only way out is through.

Apparently, I have been so deeply entrenched in the muck that every attempt I make for clarity is obscured by flying debris, at least for now, at least while I keep trudging along, making my way through it.

(Example. Ring, ring. Liz: Hello? Potential Landlord: I know you are planning to move into my property in three days, but by the way, your cats are not welcome here after all. Find other arrangements.)

So...here's a very mild request to you, in case you have some life-altering news for me: Give it a few days. My plate is full.