God Has Stopped Whispering

"The world is very loud, and God whispers." -Wynonna Judd when appearing on Oprah
"That's a good quote" - Whitey, who was in the room at the same time while I was pretending I couldn't find the remote

"ask god
listen" - Rosie O'Donnell on her ask ro section, answering a difficult question from a fan

Today I am to meet with an academic advisor, one that had I met on the first day of classes, perhaps things would have been a lot different. I am currently on the fence as to whether or not I will save my academic career -- or if even can be saved. I have been flip-flopping by the hour.

My irritable bowel syndrome came back at the same time, and if you believe in mind-body connection, you would understand that this is not a coincidence. Sparing the grisly details, this involves a lot of toilet-flushing. A LOT. And at 4:35 this morning, my toilet decided that it could not take anymore, and decided to overflow and flood.

I quickly sprang to action, and despite the fact that I had no towels because I am a lazy-ass and haven't laundered them in too long, I used a plethora of paper towels and I cleaned up the mess. This is a sign! I told myself. This is God telling me that sometimes our lives give us messes, but if we have the strength we CAN clean them up! Never has anyone been so gleeful to clean a bathroom, and for half an hour I rehearsed telling this story to some non-believers some day, like I could be my very own Joel Osteen.

Then I went back to the toilet, thinking the problem had been "fixed", when it flooded again. My online research told me I need a plunger. I don't have a plunger. I don't have the funds to call a 24-hour plumber. Then a centipede as big as a Buick crawled across the wall, and I killed it with long-range roach spray like a shootist in an action film, but by God did that fucker die a slow death. I almost feel bad.

I really wrote this just to kill time, because I don't want to call my landlady at 5:40 in the morning and feel I should wait until at least six. But now I feel like my whole epiphany was wasted, because even though I cleaned up the mess the first time, I didn't have it in me to clean it up the inevitable second time. What if that was the message? Why am I basing my major life decisions by using my toilet as a metaphor? What happens when I have to poop again? Why me?