Making It Work

 Everything is frictionful.   “Blah” said Toad.  I could say face to face with the second step, but it isn’t.  It feels like every step.   Like doors that won’t shut and no good place for laundry,  it feels like all the daily tasks that I did unconsciously and comfortably out at the farm, are now all friction.                                             But there’s no going back.     The farm is rented, my stuff dispersed or stowed  (another problem is stuff moved toward the end, I have no memory Where it is!)   I am here and need to make it work.   It’s a slog

So what story do I tell myself about this moment ?  I think tapping into the experience of friction and little irritating rough patches suggests the image of sanding and refitting a wood working project to work well and glow with an aesthetically pleasing functionality.  That story suggests getting down into the weeds and  making  everything Work, fixing, reworking, replacing each irritant until the smooth working and familiarity allow me to move through this space, with ease , no alert caution needed.  

Or I could just be annoyed and ask myself What was I thinking!?!     I think I’ll make it work