welcome to wits' end

our emotional state is mirrored by the state of our construction zone: cluttered, unsettled, uncomfortable. dusty paw prints appear on pillows and oven surfaces, betraying our cat’s exploration. pot lights are randomly flickering, drops of paint dot the laminate flooring, appliances are failing.

the living room has been affectionately dubbed ‘the hotel’, the couch bed surrounded by piles of clothing and papers illuminated by the tv’s glow. a discarded piece of drywall acts as a window shade. the bathroom remains inaccessible due to a leaning king size mattress and unpainted baseboards inhabiting the hallway. our kitchen countertop is a lush unfinished plywood, and our office ceiling is nonexistent.

the washing machine cycle sounds reminiscent of a helicopter landing in our apartment, which thankfully drowns out the drills and hammers of the deck construction next door, the hum of the hot water tank, and the drone of doof doof tunes from tenants enjoying our stress-free home above.

more than ever before, this week we’ve learned the meaning of sacrifice, patience, and the struggle to cling to the end of a rope.

the glass can’t appear half-full when it’s clearly almost empty, but we can still think positively: at least we’ve got some liquid. it’s this resolve that provides the stamina to push on, to refill our vessel with a sweeter wine than before.

all you need is love.