Chapter 10: Three Hundred Steps Back

Perhaps not surprisingly, October shaped up to be a roller coaster ride, much like my entire life. Indeed, take any slice of time—a day, a month, a year—and it will have all of the same contours: hopeful highs punctuated by crashing lows. This month has been no exception.

For a brief time I was maintaining a day-by-day diary, a virtual real-time account of my progress resurrecting this project (not that I have droves of readers clamoring for news; I write for my own emotional benefit). I've tried this sort of thing before, a number of times, and after a while it becomes overwhelming. As has so often happened, it collapsed under the weight of entirely too much bad news.

Although October saw my return to work on the house, even if only in a limited fashion, it was short-lived; work is once again suspended after I suffered two back-to-back cases of the flu, which triggered a massive Sarcoidosis attack that's nearly crippled me (and is now spreading from my lungs and lymph nodes to my skin). Meanwhile, vaguely hopeful news about the possibility of finally closing on the commercial property has been marred by a major financial screw-up on the part of the buyer that's resulted in a lien on my home property.

But most significantly, as of 21 November, the commercial property deal appears to have fallen through. The buyer requested another extension of several months, and I refused. They've already had two and a half years to get their act together, so I don't think I'm the unreasonable one. Naturally, it all went down just before a long holiday weekend, which means there will be no further discussion for at least a week. This is inhumane.

At the moment I've no idea how I'll proceed from here; I can't stop shaking long enough to think straight. To quote Harlan Ellison, I have no mouth and I must scream.

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