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Mail piled higher. Newspapers stacked taller. Dishes collected in the sink. Glasses littered any available surface through the house. Casseroles, cakes, and cookies sat uneaten on the kitchen table. The washer and dryer were used only when my situation was dire. Like when I’d run out of underwear. I packed my days and crammed my nights until I crashed. When I woke, my mind and body dragging, I got creative with espresso. I mixed exotic beans and syrups to keep me wired, and then I baked some more. My house was a mess. My life was a disaster. I was a wreck. Until the day I woke up.
