Journal for Christa—
Since this has been an exceptionally crummy last few days (I started grading 64 research papers last Saturday, and I have a sinus infection again), I thought I’d send you a journal written years ago on another particularly crummy week. This just goes to show that some weeks are “simply crummy,” and things would probably go smoother if we could all just take it in stride, including the “parishioner who doesn’t do anything.”
Oh what a draining two days. The daily wearing down of life is getting to me. It seems as though there is closure to nothing. The title for the car is still in Kansas. We even had to get an extension for the license. Just when we thought everything was fine with Mel’s knee, the other one swelled up. And when, oh when, will Shakespeare ever end? Finally, there’s just one more act and the sophomores can twist the blades when Brutus and Cassius fall on their swords. But, Hamlet still has four acts to contemplate life and find it wanting. I’m afraid the only thing the seniors find wanting are their grades.
I am over my nose in physicians’ office policy. The simple request to switch to the woman rheumatologist just about took an act of Congress (and you know how difficult that can be). How it ends is that the man will drain the knee on Friday, and the woman will see Mel over Christmas break. The entire petty scenario was because I am breaching “office policy.” I fear we’re all half crazed Hamlets, walking on the brink of madness.
Now, since Mr. Gordon’s predicted day of doom did not arrive today, I suspect that each day will go on grinding away at our soul one petty grain at a time. Some days I just want to crawl out of my skin and shout, “Could we all just lighten up a little?”
Ha, Ha, who needed to “lighten up”? Written on November 17, 1998, this just shows that for me winter is long, and it’s still often hard to see the silver in a cloud that looks plain gray.