There are times in our lives where it feels like God, the Universe, or whatever secular non religious entity you may chose to believe in, conspires against us to make our lives far more difficult than normal. For the past two weeks, I’ve been battling this insanity in my life. And by battling, I mean fighting off a nervous breakdown with every fiber of my being.

It all began as the month of August normally begins, finishing up with summer work (which consisted of battling spiders the size of my fist), and getting ready to move back to San Diego for school. I had a new apartment with my best friend, and I was ready to go…

Then, like any good horror film, it started. Slowly at first, and small things like a potted plant dying, light bulbs burning out, strange bug bites and bruises all over my body, faces in the mirror that weren’t really there, nothing serious really. That is, until the first big thing...my phone died...completely...dead. (Cue creepy violin music). "Alright," I thought to myself “it’s not a huge deal, we can fix it when you’re back in San Diego."

I sucked it up with an old iPhone 4 which, in case you didn’t know, actually requires coal to work. Two days before I left, I got a nice, big final paycheck from my previous job. I was so happy to not be poor; to be able to afford things like food and movies and soap.

My joy would not last long. As I was doing laundry, I noticed small bits of paper stuck to everything. It was...my check. Gone. Completely destroyed. I was again poorer than dirt. I mourned the beautiful, multicolored rectangle which held the promise of a brighter future.

Finally, the day came for the big move. Finally in the car. Finally on the road. Finally moving forward. Fina­the car broke down two hours from home. This horror story, far from ending, escalated at this point to create a combination of The Conjuring and The Grapes Of Wrath. Here we were with a broken down car full of my belongings, in the middle of nowhere in California. Then came the lizard incident, a permanently traumatizing event for me. My beautiful pet lizard, on his way to our new home, had a stroke and died in the parking lot of the auto shop. One minute he was fine, the next he was twitching and convulsing, and then he died.

Now, within all of my belongings, there was not a single shovel, spade, or spoon with which I could bury my lizard, so I took a deep breath, walked over to the dumpster, and I placed him as gently as possible into the giant metal coffin. I tried to stay to pray for him, but the overwhelming scent of used diapers and bad Mexican food in 106 degree heat made it difficult to do anything but gag and hold back the vomit. I had to turn and walk away from the dumpster and my poor Drogon (for you Game Of Thrones fans, yes he looked like one of the dragons). My dream is that someday, when I’m dead and crossing the Rainbow Bridge and all my pets are there to walk across into heaven with me, he’ll be there too. The reality is, if I ever see him again in the next life, he’ll look at me and say “WHY THE HELL DID YOU THROW MY BODY IN A DUMPSTER? Oh sure, cremate the dogs and have nice urns for them! The lizard? NAH, JUST THROW HIM IN A DUMPSTER AND CALL IT A DAY! You ass.”

It was at this moment that I truly began to relate to John Steinbeck’s novel, The Grapes of Wrath; taking weeks to journey to a place that isn’t really that far away, having a car break down in the middle of nowhere, and now, a member of the travel party dies in the car before we get there.

I looked out the window of our hotel room while my mom worked on her laptop. “I can see our house from here.” I said dryly, trying to keep my spirits up even though I had one less lizard in my life.

The next morning, we rented a trailer, loaded up my kayak, bike, and everything else that was in my truck, and off we went. Luckily, the rest of the trip went off without a hitch, and I’m alive to tell the story to you now!