I wake up at 5:55 am. Valentine’s Day. Willi and Stephen are sound asleep. I fell asleep early…10:30ish and therefore I wake up feeling like I got enough sleep. I go to the bathroom, weigh myself to make sure that I am still there, where ever there is, or at least in the ballpark, whatever that is. I head for the kitchen and brew up some decaf. I write morning pages to find out exactly how confused my mind is. Could be worse. It’s Friday and we are feeling pretty good about that now aren’t we.
I get dressed and take Willi for his morning walk. No vomiting this morning…perhaps the Pepcid he is on is helping him. On his walk he has a normal bowel movement and seems quite perky. Everything looks normal again…but this is probably too good to be true. Three days without any real trouble. Hmmm. I am crossing my fingers that whatever it is that has been upsetting him for weeks, perhaps is diminishing or healing. Hope burns eternal.
I drive Willi over to my mother’s house where he is spending the day…then off to work. Still I have not written or posted my Valentine’s Day entry.
At the office I encounter raised voices and a tension in the air that has to do with no one knowing how to reprogram the speed dial on the fax machine. Something must have been faxed out to the wrong number. Woops.
I detest fax machines. I don’t mind computers, but fax machines scare me. They remind me of the late 80’s and early 90’s and I have no talent for the strange and wacky technology of that time period. I was a singer/songwriter then let us not forget and fax machines were just not a part of my know-how. I am as allergic to them as my father was to computers.
It takes me ten minutes to figure out how to program the speed dial thingy, but not first before wanting to throw the entire contraption against the wall quite violently. Since I have fairly good impulse control I don’t do this, but in my mind the thing is out the window and down the street. The other people in the office are equally intimidated by the device only they have mastered the confused shoulder shrug maneuver mixed in with the both arms bent at the elbow to the shoulders, palms facing forward, this is most definitely not my job gesture.
It’s easier for me to learn speed dial programming than it is for me to teach lessons in overcoming learned helplessness programming. Either way I am cursing the inventor of the fax machine, couldn’t computers have come along a decade earlier than they did?
And so a new day begins…