One of Those Days
Today I am thankful for having had "one of those days." Sounds a little bass ackwards, doesn't it? We all know what "one of those days" is like. This was mine:
So it was just one of those days. Not a horrible day. No new car wrecks. No new deaths of pets or friends. Nothing, really to warrant me being Oscar the Grouch all day, but I was. And you know what, I'm grateful. I'm grateful to have a life where I can have a not-so-great day. I'm here, I'm alive, I have friends who love me.
I'm still staggered by Mikey's death. I was doing the church attendance sheets from Sunday, and there was his name on the roster. Do I delete the line? Which is worse, to keep seeing his name, week after week, and know I'll never put another tickmark next to it, or to delete him from the roster altogether? Do I delete his cell number from my phone's address book, or leave it there as a memorial? Can I stand to see his smiling face peering up at me from the photograph on the cover of the program from his memorial service, which is now tucked into my choir folder? Can I bear to take it out?
And as trying as my day was, it was nothing compared to what Wiley's day must have been, as he woke in a too-large bed, in an empty apartment, dressed himself from a closet still holding Michael's clothes, ate breakfast alone, and went back to work for the first time since Michael's death.
So I'm grateful for my crappy day. So very, very grateful.
- 8:45 AM - Awakened from mildly disturbing and emotional dreams by an alarm clock that rang at just precisely the wrong moment to leave me feeling rested.
- Didn't get to write with the friend I'd gotten up to write with for perfectly understandable reasons.
- Mid-morning stomach cramps and diarrhea for no obviously understandable reasons.
- Tiresome and convoluted comparison of travel sites attempting to find the best deal on tickets for messypeaches to fly up Friday, since she can't drive due to her car being totaled by an asshat who doesn't obey stop signs.
- Biting the bullet on the fact that said asshat just cost us a bunch of unexpected cash for said plane ticket.
- Emails and IMs about plans for tonight being canceled because one friend has a memory like a seive.
- More emails about plans being possibly rescheduled for tomorrow, necessitating me making changes to tomorrow's existing plans.
- Frustrated IM ranting from the other friend being affected by the changes.
- Disappointing email about how Friday's plans are going into the crapper as well.
- 3289534 phone calls that aren't very important, from well-meaning people who don't deserve to be snapped at just because my mood is foul.
- Lingering headache and sinus issues from the Cold That Will Not Die.
- Lengthy failure to communicate with Julissa, trying to understand her Spanish, and getting absolutely no writing done as a result of her frequent interruptions (but at least I have clean laundry and a clean kitchen and bathroom.)
- Realization that I have failed to do the church secretarial duties I was supposed to have finished, and that I have now run out of time to get them done before evening.
- Long line at the bank, followed by the need to get a photo taken for a new ATM card, on a day when I look like a serial killer who has never heard of shampoo.
- Boneheaded move right in front of a motorcycle cop while trying to drive Julissa and her daughter home and being completely lost. (I acknowledged the boneheadedness of my move - a last minute right turn when Julissa was shouting at me in Spanish, "turn here, turn here!" - and got away with a stern warning, thank god. Nearly died of embarrassment right on the spot.)
- Exhausted grumpiness when I realized I had just failed to call my girlfriend when I said I would, coupled with a certain knowledge that if I did call her right then, it would go poorly because I was seriously on the edge of having to banish myself to the island Where the Wild Things Are.
- Apologetic text message to girlfriend explaining self.
- Angst over strange chemical smell coming from somewhere in the living room, possibly up from the apartment below.
- Self-exile as described, except to the couch instead of the island, where I watched NCSI and reveled in the violence until finally...
- Evening sometime, well after sunset - darksideofstorm called and cheered me up.
- 8:30ish - Managed to get the church stuff done. Caught up on my f-list. Didn't catch up on my email. Wrote this. Didn't write any fiction. Stayed in hibernation. Still have the headache. Chemical smell remains. Need to clean the rat cages.
So it was just one of those days. Not a horrible day. No new car wrecks. No new deaths of pets or friends. Nothing, really to warrant me being Oscar the Grouch all day, but I was. And you know what, I'm grateful. I'm grateful to have a life where I can have a not-so-great day. I'm here, I'm alive, I have friends who love me.
I'm still staggered by Mikey's death. I was doing the church attendance sheets from Sunday, and there was his name on the roster. Do I delete the line? Which is worse, to keep seeing his name, week after week, and know I'll never put another tickmark next to it, or to delete him from the roster altogether? Do I delete his cell number from my phone's address book, or leave it there as a memorial? Can I stand to see his smiling face peering up at me from the photograph on the cover of the program from his memorial service, which is now tucked into my choir folder? Can I bear to take it out?
And as trying as my day was, it was nothing compared to what Wiley's day must have been, as he woke in a too-large bed, in an empty apartment, dressed himself from a closet still holding Michael's clothes, ate breakfast alone, and went back to work for the first time since Michael's death.
So I'm grateful for my crappy day. So very, very grateful.