Myself and those around me are drowning in misfortune, in a storm that will not cease. It is hard not to wonder if those old stories have some merit.

My entire life, boxed up, in transit, split between two places. And I still have the gall to pretend I can lay my head down here.

On the other hand, nothing was damaged. Maybe it was a different kind of omen? All of my things had been in a separate spot away from everyone else's. Maybe it's a sign that I need to be more effortful about integrating myself into the household. Or maybe I'm reading too much into a water leak.