Cold Snap

It's supposed to be cold tonight, by Sonoma County standards. Perhaps into the twenties. We are burning cut-up pallets in our stove to heat the house. It's cheap - free, in fact! - and effective.

The cold makes me want to hibernate. So do days like this, that start with a voicemail at work from a livid customer wanting to sue because of a perceived wrong. Her anger is palpable. I practically have to wipe it off the phone after I listen to her rant. She names me in particular, although she mis-pronounces my name. She nearly mis-pronounces other, simpler words too. She is that furious. She ends her message with "I'll see you in court!" And although I understand her anger and do not blame her for it, I also know how very misplaced it is.

People who have lost data through fate, Murphy's law, Acts of God, Acts of Ex-Spouses, and the failure of technology are often riding the waves raftless in a dark choppy sea of negative emotions. They lash out at the nearest target. I think they are really lashing out at themselves but they misdirect their anger and send it full-force at the very people who are trying to help them. It's ironic.

There were other challenges at work too  today - things that on their own, individually, would have colored the day tricky at best, but which together almost became amusing. I'm sure I'll laugh about it. Eventually.

For now, while I wait for S's Chamber Orchestra rehearsal to finish and wrap up my writing work at Starbucks, I think longingly about the red chintz couch/chaise lounge we inherited from Mom that sits conveniently next to that wood-burning stove. I think I can hear it calling my name from here. The red couch doesn't care about lost data or perceived wrongs. It doesn't want to sue me or my company. It promises only warmth and a place for both Lethe and lethargy. How lovely.