Snowball day from hell
Today has been like a little piece of ice that falls from a pine tree and hits a snowy slope and starts rolling downhill.
Into one gigantic fucking snowball from hell.
So I was trying to find a cheaper flight to Nebraska (because I didn’t book Friday night, the original flight went up $200 in six fucking hours) when an email comes into my inbox.
From my wife.
“Regarding our situation. I am planning on filing next week unless I hear differently from you. I want to be as open in our communication as possible. Please let me know if you have already moved forward or if you have other thoughts.”
My thought is, “Could you possibly have more piss-poor timing than this?”
So I emailed her back to say she needs to do what she needs to do – and that I’ll be back in town on Feb. 6. That my dad needs me - and that is my current focus.
But I can multi-task. I can do this. I make a call to the outfit that I took the small loan from to come up with the retainer on an attorney to see where the hell check is (it’s - bada-boom – in the mail).
“With the president’s death and Martin Luther King holiday, we show that it should get there on Monday or Tuesday,” the very nice lady said.
And I will be 1,600 miles away from my mailbox, my bank and my attorney.
So, my next step is to call and email my attorney to give her a head’s up on the divorce situation – and to beg her to take my case for the $500 that I can get to her right now, in however way she wants to get it.
I’m still waiting.
Then, I run into work to tie up about 20 loose ends. Which actually goes smoothly. Until I realize that the only thing I lack currently is a ride to the airport on Monday (yeah, I’m working on it).
On the way home, I run into a business associate of my wife’s, who feels it’s right and decent to tell me some shitty stuff she told him about the divorce situation. Like I needed that. But I thanked him for being honest (and seethed with red-hot emotion at her willingness to openly lie to me; I do deserve better than that).
It’s late afternoon, I’m not packed, I don’t have a ride to the airport and in two-and-a-half hours, I’ve got to deliver the second reading at mass. A reading that I’ve looked over, but didn’t get to practice Friday or Saturday.
With what has snowballed, I just know I’m going to cock up – and probably will drop an F-bomb on the audience.
It is one way to close this day out properly.
Don’t you think?
Into one gigantic fucking snowball from hell.
So I was trying to find a cheaper flight to Nebraska (because I didn’t book Friday night, the original flight went up $200 in six fucking hours) when an email comes into my inbox.
From my wife.
“Regarding our situation. I am planning on filing next week unless I hear differently from you. I want to be as open in our communication as possible. Please let me know if you have already moved forward or if you have other thoughts.”
My thought is, “Could you possibly have more piss-poor timing than this?”
So I emailed her back to say she needs to do what she needs to do – and that I’ll be back in town on Feb. 6. That my dad needs me - and that is my current focus.
But I can multi-task. I can do this. I make a call to the outfit that I took the small loan from to come up with the retainer on an attorney to see where the hell check is (it’s - bada-boom – in the mail).
“With the president’s death and Martin Luther King holiday, we show that it should get there on Monday or Tuesday,” the very nice lady said.
And I will be 1,600 miles away from my mailbox, my bank and my attorney.
So, my next step is to call and email my attorney to give her a head’s up on the divorce situation – and to beg her to take my case for the $500 that I can get to her right now, in however way she wants to get it.
I’m still waiting.
Then, I run into work to tie up about 20 loose ends. Which actually goes smoothly. Until I realize that the only thing I lack currently is a ride to the airport on Monday (yeah, I’m working on it).
On the way home, I run into a business associate of my wife’s, who feels it’s right and decent to tell me some shitty stuff she told him about the divorce situation. Like I needed that. But I thanked him for being honest (and seethed with red-hot emotion at her willingness to openly lie to me; I do deserve better than that).
It’s late afternoon, I’m not packed, I don’t have a ride to the airport and in two-and-a-half hours, I’ve got to deliver the second reading at mass. A reading that I’ve looked over, but didn’t get to practice Friday or Saturday.
With what has snowballed, I just know I’m going to cock up – and probably will drop an F-bomb on the audience.
It is one way to close this day out properly.
Don’t you think?
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