Yesterday I had to call a friend to talk me off the ledge. I know I've done everything I can. I know I cannot call or email The Man. I know this is a waiting time. I needed help to act on what I know.
Following great advice in comments from Cheryl and Deb and Tanya, I decided to choose peace, to step away from the macaroni-and-cheese and go for a walk, do something constructive. Cassie and I walked along the Little Blue River and then stopped at Mom's to borrow her new steam cleaner. Shortly after I got home, Mom called to remind me not to open the water compartment when the unit is hot. She described the proper procedure for removing the valve. In. Extreme. Detail. "It's under a lot of pressure, Jerri. Give it time."
After I'd written every word I could make myself type for the day, I got out the steam cleaner and cleaned the big mirror in my entry and the floors in the living room. Then I took the thing down to clean the shower doors in the downstairs bathroom.
You know what's coming next, don't you?
I loosened the valve and waited a minute or two. Impatient as ever, I decided to loosen it a bit more, take it just one little step further. The pressure blew the valve right out of the opening and that little yellow steam unit turned into Mount St. Helens, shooting steam and hot water skyward...faceward.
The steam and scalding water hurt, especially near my eyes, but I was incredibly lucky I didn't get seriously burned.
Patience is a virtue, and I want some.