You Shall Not Pass

It seems the universe vacilates on its opinion of me.

First I'm soaring:  receiving the bounty of a new job, a fresh start.  I lose a house and gain a house, I serendipitously meet people who shine a positive light into my life. I feel like Everything is Meant to Be...

Then I'm snatched down as if by the flaming whiplash of the Balrog:  sucked childishly into acrimonious conflict with the X. Blazing into petty sniping with the boyfriend. Circling my office like an anxiety-ridden tiger in a cage, distracted to paralysis by the enormity of my To Do list.  Snapping at my son.  Yesterday my car wouldn't start. My camera stopped working. The external hard drive I purchased to transfer all my photos onto wouldn't format for the computer I'm using.



Today is my next to last day at work.  I have at least three more days worth of stuff to accomplish, and a doctor's appointment this morning to eat up a good hour of the day. 


What gives?  Did I get too cocky?  Too confident? Has the universe turned its back on me?


And as the chaos begins to wind itself up to the point at which I either overcome it or run howling mad through the streets... I have something of an epiphany. Eventually – and sooner rather than later – I will have to give up on getting everything done and just go....  Go.  Throw everything up in the air and run out from under it. Balrog or no Balrog.

"Fly, you fools."