You Survived Siberia...

You can handle this.

So said a friend of mine from Russia.

True. I did survive Siberia, but as an American traveling there. A little different than, say, those millions who survived it as Russians in prison.

Anyway...

Today, I am so incredibly exhausted, I don't even know how I am going to complete all the packing and painting for the rest of the day. I am way overdue for another iron infusion at the cancer center. I suppose that soon my doctor will order me one, and all I can think about is how much time that is going take me away from all the moving work I need to get done.

How am I going to paint when I have spent the day with a mega IV in my arm?

Oh, well. I survived Siberia, and my iron was probably low there, too. It's just that Siberia is so darn fun I was completely distracted from my fatigue.

We are praying our home sells soon. We care not at all if we make any money on it. We just want it to sell so that we avoid the foreclosure we had no idea we were even close to. The sooner the better. I think I packed most of the shoes and all the sugar, so only dog food and cereal is left. And the cable is on. One needs Lifetime, and other trashy TV, at a time like this. But one with four children cannot live this way for long.

Off to toss unsold Mary Kay eye creams into a used shoebox. I dream about Siberia...the Ob River and the cruise with the great cookies and the Volga where we swam until the rats chased us out, and how the sun never set so one could never sleep, and how no one in the entire country knew how to smile.

Yes, I can survive this. And the home I am losing is not my dream home in Siberia. Losing a wooden shack without running water and driving my horse to work would be really sad. Having to say goodbye to both would be devastating. The dacha and Dadja Volodja would be so hard to part with- this is what I would call my trusty Siberian steed. The impending winter would seem so insurrmountable. At least, I am losing my home in America. That's better.