Zen

One would imagine that with the big drama cropping up my recent life, I would be all zen and whatever about life's minor annoyances. Well, I am not. I just gave a 90-year old woman the finger while driving to the office. Yes, THAT finger; the significant one. Please don't judge me! She totally deserved it for cutting me off and for being so ... wrinkly. While I do have many fine attributes, being calm and low-key, even under normal circumstances, is not something I excel at. If I were a dog, I would be a poodle. I know stress is bad for you and have tried remedies ... yoga ... deep breathing ... meditation ... but they all end up stressing me out more because I am so unnerved by trying to sit and quiet my mind. Just a little background to understand how this weekend has pushed me to the brink.

Exhibit A: Thursday. Evacuated to work stairwell because of tornado. While hiding in the stairwell, a giant branch falls on my car. Which could be worse, my parents' house had an entire giant tree fall on it. I make the mistake of telling Jeff this fact in front of our (neurotic) son. During more storms later that night, Ethan is panicked that "a tree will crush our house." I assure him not to worry, this is what insurance is for so if a tree DOES crush our house, we can get a BETTER house and all new toys.

Exhibit B: Early Friday. Our bank account numbers are stolen and mysteriously used, even though we still have the cards. We are forced to close all accounts and order new cards. In the meantime, we have no forms of currency (I just bummed $20 from my mom, which at the age of 32, is simply embarrassing). Jeff recognizes that a $400 charge to the account is fraudulent, not because I would hesitate to spend $400 in one store -- that is elementary shopping; at this point in my life, I have earned a retail doctorate -- but because the charge was made at some low-rent store that Jeff realizes I would not have entered on my own volition.

Exhibit C: Late Friday. Bad news: Our AC unit breaks. Good News: The record heat wave is only supposed to spike temps to 100 degrees this weekend, as opposed to some places of the US where it will reach 115 degrees, such as the Death Valley desert.

Exhibit D: Sunday: Unable to withstand the face-melting heat at our house for one more second, Ethan and I evacuate to my parents' place (now, complete with one full roof). Ethan spends the night kicking me in the head because there is only one small bed in the guestroom and we have to share. Also, he snores. Jeff stays put at our house because there is only one bed in the guestroom. Plus he is too stubborn to admit defeat and concede that the heat has won.

Exhibit E: Early Monday. I got about 3 hours of sleep last night (see head-kicking). In addition to dark circles, I awoke this fine morning to find that my eyes had swollen into little slits due to my recently discovered cat allergy. Jeff and I "donated" our kitties, Sadie and Felix, to my parents when an infant Ethan developed an allergy to cats. Now, I am the one who cannot be around them without feeling like I am suffocating and turning into one big itchy hive. So I am distressed to see Felix sleeping on the "stuff" Jeff brought over last night for Ethan and I. On closer inspection, I see that my bag of "stuff" contains no make-up, toothbrush or shoes. However, he did bring me something to wear to work: a hot pink lace bra and a sheer white shirt. Um? Because he thinks that I now work at an escort service? So in lieu of wearing ridiculously inappropriate clothing to work, I am currently wearing my mom's leopard-print dress. She has 'normal' black pants, but she is five-four and I am five-eight, so they looked absurd. And while the dress sounds bad on paper, did I mention that it also has big fuchsia hibiscus flowers all over it? No, I did not. So you see? Much better! At least it deters from the hot pink bra.

Exhibit F: Still early Monday. Attempt to drop Ethan off at summer camp/preschool. One of their AC units blew also, but only in one part of the building, so I do not feel too bad about leaving him there while I FLEE to the glorious glorious air of my cold cold office. Except it took me an hour to leave, because he is hot and tired, and judging from all the resultant kicking and screaming, also possessed by Satan.

Exhibit G: Monday, again. Phone call. AC guy can fix our unit (hee, unit!) for the bargain price of $1,500. In two weeks. OR ... we can buy a whole new unit and have it done by Wednesday of this week - for $5,000. I offer to pay him $10,000 AND show him my boobs if he can fix it tomorrow. No dice. Apparently my boobs,while real, are not spectacular.

Exhibit H: Still Monday. Drive to work. Ms. Old Lady, please meet the acquaintance of Mr. My Finger.

Exhibit I: Monday ... for the LOVE OF GOD! Seriously, how is it STILL MONDAY?!!! Walked out of ladies room with leopard-print hibiscus dress partially tucked into my underwear. Luckily, underwear does not match the bra so I am spared the humiliation of flashing hot pink drawers. Instead, they are white and cotton and gigantic. That was one hour ago and I think my receptionist is still on the floor, laughing.