You know how stuff on the top shelf of a disorderly closet closed on a mess will all fall on your head if you open the door?
My life is kind of doing that right now.
Today we got a visit from the local zoning compliance officer. Even though Casa MFA is zoned agricultural, they still prosecute if you have chickens or other "farm animals" on a plot under three acres (I thought it was under ONE). Ours is 2.7 and therefore barring a very slim chance that we can get grandfathered all of the poultry have to go pretty much immediately. They can't reveal the identity of the complainer but the (shockingly nice and very apologetic) zoning guy said the complainer was really weird in the way they made the complaint and refused to give their name or callback number and he got the impression they weren't from around here. Oh, Stalky, that was so mean of you!
Plenty of other things went wrong today, including something someone did absentmindedly that caused a chain-reaction of bank fees that will be one costly clusterfuck, my locking myself out of the MFA Minivan on my lunchbreak (with my wallet inside so that I could neither hire a locksmith nor prove ownership of the vehicle in order to get the police to help me out) while shocked by the awful poultry and financial news, which arrived together while I was in the ATM line, work announcing that while they want to try and keep me on until late November they'll be cutting my hours starting next week, and BUMPITY BUMPITY OUCH OH GOD DAMN IT ALL RIGHT STRAIGHT TO HELL SUDDENLY EVERY ANXIOUS THOUGHT I HAVE EVER HAD HAS COME HOME TO ROOST.
I was literally scared to drive home from work because I was certain that between the way today was going and the rain I'd wreck the damn minivan; a coworker literally had to shoo me from my seat at my desk with assurances that whatever I was working on (which unbeknownst to them was pretty much JUST a small nervous breakdown at that point) could wait until tomorrow, and when the XY was late returning the MFA Children from dinner visitation I was certain he'd managed to wreck again with them in his car.
Obviously I made it home safely, and so did the MFA Children or I would be in no fit state to post a thing, but it sure does feel like nothing will ever been good again. Hotter and I are both really upset (as are the children, but honestly I think the grownups are taking it harder) about our birds, and hating that we can't move to his hometown with them (my mother in law, who is a saint, is bringing a truck from several states away and taking the MFA Flock to her farm), and wondering if we'll ever stop getting nasty surprises from Stalky, whose ability to screw with my life I thought I'd eliminated by changing career fields. Now I wonder if I don't also need to change my damn name and move, and oh yeah maybe just get the hell off of the innernet permanently and stop sharing any little goddamn thing at all about my life with the general public (I hesitated even to talk about the poultry thing at all to try and avoid giving Stalky the satisfaction, but I think y'all would notice if I never mentioned the birds again).
I doubt I'll do that, and I'm sure tomorrow will be better (although I will not tempt fate by doubting that it could possibly be worse), and I'll be fine because I always am, but...today can pretty much fuck right on off and die in a tire fire.