The future is wide open.
Two things have been happening in our lives for several months and I just realized that one has been a metaphor for the other.
It took my dreaming of an overflowing toilet a few days ago to link the two.
So, our toilets started backing up this winter. The plumber told us it was time to clean out the septic.
Same exact time: My husband was told he — and everyone in his department — would have to reapply for their jobs. It was part of a reorganization, yet another attempt for a newspaper to save itself. Some, like him, had been in that newsroom for 30 years.
At home, when the plumber came looking for the septic cap, he couldn’t find it. He dug up the yard. They studied and restudied the map of where the septic is supposed to be. It wasn’t there. After digging and digging, they deduced the septic cap was under our little pond’s waterfall.
Dig up the pond, the plumber said, or try to add more good bacteria and see what happens.
We spent weeks flushing good bacteria down the toilets, and as per the country plumber’s advice, moldy chicken. It wasn’t working.
Meanwhile, we were waiting to see what would happen with my husband’s career.
Just waiting. Weeks and weeks worth of waiting.
What we were going through on the job front was a lot like how we felt every time we flushed the toilet. “Am I going to get crapped on today?”
During this time, we talked a lot about the heart’s desire. About seeing change as an opportunity for something new, something deeper. We both were confident it would all turn out as it should. It always does.
And I, way more than he, was OK with the potential disruption. He loved his job and he is damned good at it. But naive as it may be, given our current economy, a huge part of me didn’t want my good and talented husband working for such a place, and for such a people who would even consider putting out employees in this way. A place in a gasping industry. Pa’ la mierda. Reinvention time.
Finally, after one toilet backup too many I said: “Do you really want to sit here and hope shit doesn’t back up into our house? Let’s dig up the pond.”
And, we did.
And, my husband lost his job.
Just like that.
At the same time.
A few days ago, I dreamt the toilet in our master bath overflowed. I flushed it and it gushed and gushed. The water, though, was like a mineral spring — clear and cool, and I just stood there, watching it as it drenched my floor. In the dream, I was amazed by its cleanliness and the weird sparkle, undisturbed by the eruption.
I looked up the meaning. It appears to be a good sign.
I know it has to be.
There’s a whole lot less mierda in our lives now.