Wednesday, June 21, 2006

How a day unravels

It felt like a Monday. It should have been a Monday. No major catastophies, but lots of unraveling.

And the major catastrophies thing might be wrong.

First thing in the morning, I was late to work. Dang. For the second day in a row. I just couldn't manage to leave my soft, cool bed to head out into the hot, sticky world. So, I called and left a message for the boss, to let her know I'd be late. I hustle to my office and see...that she's not even there. If I hadn't left the message, she'd never have known I was late. Dang.

I spent last week creating a Web and print version of an instructional manual we need for a new system we're implementing. It made the rounds and got everyone's little nit-picky, just-gotta-have-something-to-say "suggestions." I made many changes (but not all - some were, quite simply, stupid). That was last week.

Yesterday, I get it back from my other boss. He made changes. Little things, he said, just window-dressing. Are you buying it? I didn't either. Yeah, they were little things. In each paragraph. That means I get to painstakingly copy-and-paste his "window-dressing" into each paragraph of the HTML pages online. Dang.

I get a call from the mother of that lovely little piece of work my son is finally rid of. I cannot tell you how great he's been since NOT talking to her. You can almost see him mature, the more time goes by since he's talked to her. The moodiness is almost gone! Like magic!

So, Lil Miss wants to talk to him. She wants apologize to me and to him. Her mother says the girl has to call me first. Oh goody. There's a phone call I'll be pacing the floor to get. Dang.

I ask my son if there's anything he'd like me to communicate to her. "I can tell her or her mother that you don't want to talk," I offered. "No," he said, "I should handle it myself. But I just don't give a crap anymore."

Then the thunderstorm moved in. The clouds of brooding gathered. Flashes of temper and sound and fury. And this is just the thought of talking to her. She called and apologized to me, but I told her to hold off on calling him. This storm was going to take out anything in its path. She might as well take cover. Dang.

Back on the ranch, my colleague and general partner-in-crime (aka co-researcher) comes to my office. She sits in my big comfy chair and says, "Are you ready for this?" Oh no. Lemme say "Dang" before it even gets started.

We are planning a major research project. We've spent months on it. We're presenting the findings this fall. People are waiting. "Are you ready for this," she asks and my heart stops. What happened?

There's a big gaping hole in the middle of our project. What's worse is that it's one that has always been there. We simply didn't notice. With a little less self-control, I'd have been in the fetal position, sucking my thumb the rest of the day.

But I had to make my way home, in the 100+ degree heat. "But it's dry heat," they say. WTF does that mean?!?! It's still hot!

I walk into the air-conditioned house, take a deep breath, and let out the day for a bit. Kisses from my daughter. The storm front seems contained to his room for the time being. I pick up the mail from the front table.

Dang.

Jury duty.

4 comments:

NWO said...

I love that you love life's adventure.

Blogget Jones said...

Thank you. I suppose I do.

Maybe my motto should be, if you can't beat 'em, then just rant in a blog.

;o)

Thanks!
Blogget

Gingers Mom said...

What a bummer of a day! Hang in there!!! Good for you for going to great lengths in protecting your son.

Blogget Jones said...

Thanks! It's gotten better! I received a little reward at the office for all the hard work I've been doing. It's good to have that noticed! And Lil Miss decided she's mad at my son (for being mad at her) and decided she doesn't want to talk to him at all. I was able to wait until after I hung up the phone to dance around the room :o) Just barely.

Thanks and take care!!