every once in a while the flotsam and jetsam in the Great Universal Sea heaves and swirls, and when the waters recede, you look down and see a turd or two floating at your feet. at least that's the way i feel... after the events of the last nearly 24 hours.
it began when i myself started to feel as if i were fighting a cold. no fun psychic circle for me last night, i decided... it's one thing to take one's mind off a migraine, but quite another to share cold germs. so i stayed home, and was thus around to witness one of libby's rare complete meltdowns caused by her heavy sinus cold and an assignment she just couldn't seem to do. she calmed down a little bit after i explained to her about brain fog, and how, when we are sick, we're not just not at 100% physical capability - it affects how we think, too. i told her she had two choices - to stay home and do the assignment when she was feeling better tomorrow, or do the best she could tonight and give herself a break. sometimes, libby, i said, even the best of us hand in C work.
it alarmed me how hard she is capable of being on herself.
the next thing that happened was the call about my friend's loss. i know how awful i felt in the days after lorraine died. i remember how empty the world seemed the first morning after her death. how can the sun still come up, i remember thinking. i realized back then that it helps and it doesn't to feel the presences of spirits on the other side. on the one hand, it calms, i think, the horrible anxiety some people feel. on the other, it doesn't in any way negate the loss or the grief.
but it was the third thing this morning that left me feeling absolutely slimed. i found this in my email, entitled "our troubles with our significant others." i print it here, in its entirety. my purpose is not to embarrass the person whose name is on the letter, but to give him an opportunity to either step forward and apologize, or to perhaps claim that his identity has been stolen by an internet hoaxter of questionable taste, therefore allowing him to set the record straight:
Alas, you probably won't remember the good looking older fellow who sat at the same table with you when you were a guest at CAPA author's meeting a couple of months ago, but I certainly remember you. I also remember you and Karen telling me about your special problems with your men, and I was very tempted to tell you about my own desperation of another sort.
Since then, I've become more and more convinced that we can be of service to each other and I would very much like to meet you for lunch or dinner at your convenience to tell you what I have in mind.
If you are up for a little exploratory pow-wow, I would dearly like to hear from you.
With best regards,
Howard Layton (Author of 'Love and Sand')
this person is quite real, apparently - i googled him. so what's the dealio, howie? did you forget your meds? get kidnapped by aliens? had your identity stolen?
cause, trust me, even if you just confused me with someone else... this is a slimey thing to do. no woman worth the carbon atoms in her body will respond to this approach favorably...or, at least, she shouldn't.
and furthermore, the war must end. blessed be.