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You know, Preschool was so easy.  You had snack time, a nap, some toys and that was your day.  Maybe you learned a thing or two.  Hell, being 4 was easy, it wasn’t just Preschool.  But Preschool was your “job.”  How easy.

I really want to go back to being in Preschool.

The life where you are blissfully unaware of how long the days can get and you don’t know the meaning of stress.  I could probably get there now actually.  At 31 it looks more like a beach with someone handing you a drink with an umbrella in it but I just can’t quite get there right now.

Instead, this week is kicking my ass.  We had a storm roll through our small town and drill us with baseball size hail.  While there is a lot of damage, we are very lucky it is not much worse.  We are now in fix-it mode.  Our 8 month old house has a demolished roof, windows, deck, AC unit, and much more.  This week has been full of storm stress, clean up stress, phone calls, unexpected time off from work, rearranging of schedules and so on.  This doesn’t even count going to work and helping my customers with their own storm claims.

I was handling it okay until I woke up today and I’m exhausted.  I’ve been trying to get a grip on finding some balance.  I tried to sit and have a glass of wine last night with a friend and that worked for about 2 seconds.  I can’t get a grip on anything today.

We put our rental house on the market this week, I have another appointment with my fertility specialist on Friday, we are leaving for vacation next week, we have 5ft sinkhole in our backyard and then the storm gets thrown on my lap this week.

I wave the white flag.

Preschool, I’m sorry I rushed you.