So. We have been on a metaphorical rollercoaster. Definitely since June, but depending on how you count events, possibly before then.
Now, I love, LOVE, a good rollercoaster. The twists, the turns, the loops, the unexpected drops, the hills-that-last-forever-and-you-wonder-if-the-car-will-ever-coast-down-the-other-side ... whew. It is exciting and exhilarating, and I love it.
But. The car we are currently sitting in is broken. It repeats the track. It jumps to another ride just as the first one seems to be reaching an end. It has too many loops and the turns are coming without any warning. This sinking feeling in my gut is getting old.
We should be awarded a prize if we reach the end without vomiting. Or just if we reach the end.
Maybe we will. I won't know until the freakin' ride ends.
I think (THINK!) we can see the end now. But, I am becoming quite cynical these days.