Coping mechanism

I just had one of those conversations.

The I-have-a-second-bout-of-heat-rash-breaking-out-on-my-hands-and-have-to-be-out-in-public-with-a-poison-ivy-type-rash-on-my-face-because-no-one-told-me-not-to-eat-raw-cashews-to-a-friend-who-has-had-a-sore-throat-and-violent-nose-bleeds-since-this-afternoon-and-has-an-unrelated-bruised-tailbone conversation.

The why-do-I-put-myself-through-this? conversation.

It happens sometimes. But what’s important is what happens afterward.

You know what we did afterward?

We laughed.

Because, this life, this incessantly-dirty-feet-sitting-seven-people-in-a-sedan-living-near-a-city-with-a-cholera-outbreak-because-really-I-live-in-1850 life, is our life.

I plan on giggling my way though the next 20 months.