Lady Uppity considered herself a spiritually evolved woman until one burst pipe and three industrial drying fans revealed she was, in fact, still deeply attached to predictability.
It started one warm spring morning. Lady Uppity did what she always does — she finished her morning meditation, made a cup of coffee, settled into her outrageously comfortable chair, picked up her leather-bound journal, and began to write.
After a bit of time — how long is unimportant — she got up and, as usual, returned to the kitchen to wash her cup and prepare a bowl of vanilla Greek yogurt with almonds and strawberries for breakfast.
That’s when it began.
Stepping up to the sink in her stocking feet, she was shocked to realize she was standing in a small puddle.
“Oh, holy moly!” she cried in disbelief. “What the heck is going on?” There’s almost nothing worse than stepping in water while in your stocking feet.
She opened the cabinet and was horrified to discover a pipe had burst, and water was spewing everywhere.
“YUCK!” she screamed.
Lady U, still in shock, immediately sprang into action, removed the soggy socks, and grabbed a handful of small towels from the linen closet. Before she even had time to think about what she was doing, she was down on her knees mopping up the water.
Her kitchen was flooding—no time for fear.
Turn off the water. Call the plumber.
Good news — one of the perks of living in the Palace was the resident plumber. Lady Yemaya loved nothing more than fixing things, and leaking pipes were her specialty.
She entered with a fully equipped tool belt and three large drying fans.
Within minutes, she fixed the leak and set the fans in motion, all the while reassuring Lady Uppity that it was going to be okay.
The bad news, she gently shared, was that it would take a few weeks to dry everything out. And the worst-case scenario — floors and cabinets might need to be ripped out and replaced.
“Dang — dang, dang, dang!” Lady Uppity sobbed. “Now what?”
She called her dear friend, Lady Birdsong, to ask for help and advice. Lady B and Lady U were close, close friends. After listening, Lady Birdsong insisted Lady Uppity pack her toothbrush and come across the kingdom to stay with her until the work was complete.
Lady Uppity sighed. Seeing the logic in her friend’s suggestion, she agreed to at least consider this option. Feeling overwhelmed and not really knowing what to do next, she simply hung up the phone, sat down in her outrageously comfortable chair, and cried.
Word of Lady Uppity’s plight quickly spread throughout the Palace. Everyone was talking.
The Duke of Discontent sat reading his newspaper. “What’s all the commotion? For pity’s sake, it’s only a small leak. Why do they insist on getting their feathers in a knot?” he grumbled.
Upon hearing the news, Lady Idiyanale — known throughout the kingdom for her extraordinary organizing skills — gathered all the women. Together they skipped and danced over to Lady Uppity’s abode, arriving on her doorstep laughing and singing.
They came with tea and freshly baked almond scones and insisted Lady Uppity sit down with her feet propped up while they made a plan to help her pack for her move.
Lady U, overwhelmed (but not totally surprised — after all, this is what we women do for one another), cried with joy. And relief.
Before she knew it, she and the pups were packed up and loaded into her car. Off she went to the far region of the Kingdom of Sheer Delight and into the waiting arms of her dear friend.
After a day or three of rest, she began to relax.
Lady Uppity had spent years speaking about surrender, though she now realized she had quietly assumed surrender would eventually reward her with a well-structured plan and clearly labeled containers.
In truth, what she called “inner peace” had often depended upon predictability.
The same breakfast.
The same routines.
The same outrageously comfortable chair.
The comforting illusion that she knew what would happen next.
But life, apparently, had other plans.
Between the industrial fans, the borrowed bedroom, the kindness of women carrying almond scones, and the exhaustion of trying to hold herself together, Lady Uppity remembered something important:
Home was never merely the walls themselves.
Home was the place inside herself she could return to without judgment.
And perhaps even more surprising, home was also found in the people who welcomed her exactly as she was — frightened, displaced, overwhelmed, and all.
She still did not know what would happen next.
The floors might need replacing.
The future remained uncertain.
Her nervous system still preferred detailed itineraries and fully functioning plumbing.
But for the first time in a long time, Lady Uppity stopped demanding certainty before offering herself kindness.
And somewhere deep beneath the fear, she realized she had not lost her home after all.
“There’s no place like home,” she whispered softly.
Then, placing one hand on her heart and looking around the borrowed room, she smiled.
Apparently, home had followed her.