One way or another

"It smells like poop in here," I messaged E. "Is it because they're working on the pipes?" "Might be," he responded. "Shaking loose the poop dust dried from the dripping." I typed back, "Kill me." And this is the situation I so desperately wished to escape from, what I didn't want to memorialize with words, why I made the very-emotional-and-not-financially-sound decision to empty all our savings…