Supper was sizzling away in the frying pan when the Brick got home the other night. "I've got something bad to tell you," he said.
My gut twisted. He'd lost his job? One of our girls was terribly hurt? He'd run over one of the dogs in the driveway?
Turns out he was 'fired' -- sort of. The program for one of his favorite volunteer positions was being shut down. It hurt more because he'd really loved this work, and had put a lot of time and effort into it.
But it wasn't the end of the world.
I keep reminding myself about that. It's been a rotten week, with business deadlines looming, and an argument in a group I belong to, eating up time, energy and sleep. (The Brick and yours truly woke up at 2 a.m. this morning when a particularly loud train roared through town, some 3 or 4 miles away. Couldn't get back to sleep until 3:30 a.m. or so.) We need to finish off taxes and get them submitted. I have two Crazies in progress that must be finished (and mailed) by this weekend. The hallway is full of boxes, waiting to be put away. (The staffers for Brickworks have been on vacation the past few weeks, which means yours truly tidies up and deals with orders.) And somehow, some way we've got to get our roof replaced soon.
Whenever I get one job done, my mind immediately starts yelping about the next one. I've started taking an hour to read a book -- on anything but what I'm involved in at present. A portable vacation, so to speak. (Just got back from an ocean voyage, thanks to Clive Cussler's The Thief -- which sadly wasn't that good. Spent a year recovering with Betty MacDonald in The Plague and I, and am headed out soon to paddle down the Nile, stopping at historical spots along the way.)
Two of our friends last night were coughing and sneezing -- the flu's starting its annual visit to Colorado. I ache all over. Is it the flu announcing its presence -- or am I just frustrated -- or just a new storm coming in?
There are good things happening. For one, most of the upstairs is reasonably clean. (I sweep and scrub when I'm working out problems. Go figure!) Clothes are washed. We're still eating. And I have been completing deadlines, though more slowly than I would wish.
I haven't been spending hog-wild, unless you count a few trips to check out the thrift shop's free box and 75-cent books. (They have great bread, too, if you get there on the right day -- artisan loaves and such.) I haven't written insulting messages to anyone, or screamed at the chickens. (Although I could cheerfully strangle the young blue jay who kicked out a week's worth of seeds in the bird feeder, then scattered them all around.) Still no eggs yet, by the way. (Another sigh.)
Life goes on. It will get better.
I just hope it happens soon.
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