The Butter House.

Backwards to go forwards seems to be a recurring theme in my life.

There’s this riddle my father told me when I was very young about a fox, a chicken, and a bag of grain. You have to get all three across a river in a boat but you can only take one at a time and you cant leave what will eat the other one alone waiting on the other side.

The trick is you have to take one of the three things back to the original side to accomplish the task.

Its a very common riddle, but when I was little it stuck.

Stuck.

Good word for how i’m feeling in my life right now- seems like the only option is backwards.

I have this horrible metaphor for how life works that i’ve tried conveying a couple of times.

-Its like you’re in a house made of butter and you have a magic butter knife that will only let you cut the butter in specific ways. You’d think you can carve the house into anything you want, and you can to a certain degree…but then the magic knife will just stop working suddenly.

You can no longer cut the butter- you must keep searching and attempting to slice until the knife starts working on the butter again.

like I said, horrible metaphor, but I keep hacking away at it hoping the knife will work.

My knife doesn’t seem to be working on anything right now.

So im spending time in old rooms.

Rooms I’ve long since moved on from or abandoned hoping the knife will start back up again.

Its the damn fox I’m having trouble getting across.

what the riddle leaves out is you cant make a fox do anything.

It wont get in the boat.