Yesterday, the sale of our Illinois home fell through… for the third time.

This ongoing cycle of hopeful expectation and great disappointment is taking its toll on us. The financial drain is annoying, but the emotional stress is worse. Ordinary Spouse and I wonder if we’re doing something wrong, if we’re cursed for some reason… on and on. We begin to doubt the good intentions of everyone involved.

Intellectually, I know that this will pass. In the end, it will work out. But my brain won’t communicate with my gut, which seems to dictate how I look at the world. Yesterday and today we’re pretty bleak for me. It wasn’t easy to interact with people. I’m glad that the weekend has arrived.

Our agent told us that our home could really use some TLC – especially the front flower bed which had taken on some jungle-like qualities. Ordinary Spouse decided that she would make the trip west to clean things up. In our rush to move in May, she felt there were some loose ends that didn’t get tied up. Taking care of the empty house and the flower bed and spending some time with our friends and our small group would be cathartic. It would help bring closure.

So this morning, she and oldest daughter set out for Plainfield. Her stomach was in knots, but the trip went well. OS had lots of time to think and reflect. Now she’s clearing out flower beds.

So what’s with the title for this blog post? What’s up with the “sixteen years”?

In a blog post buried for the last three years in the archive, I wrote about Ordinary Spouse and me:

I think that we treasure “lame”. We revel in it. We are uniquely lame.

That was written in the context of our thirteenth anniversary.

And today is our sixteenth anniversary.

Again, we’ve managed to spend it apart. Both ‘lame’ and ‘lament’ seem to be appropriate.

All will be well, honey. Travel safely. I love you.