Sociology is rational. God is not.
God knows the very moment we are born.
Madeleine L'Engle, A Circle of Quiet
You know how I coined 'Sunday Night Syndrome' with my sis to describe that peculiar angst one feels before they go back to work on Monday morning?
Wicked Wednesday is all mine.
it's the busiest day of the week.
there are a thousand phone calls
you can't put people off to next week the way you can thursday and friday
did i mention the phone?
I also had to be at work for an 8 am meeting (the stuff of nightmares for me, a non-morning person).
I awakened at 4, 4:30, and 5 am, to check I was not late. Then I fell back asleep and dreamed vivid, horribly odd dreams (devils. over flowing toilets. messy hallways. what? WHAT?).
I finally gave up and got myself into the bathtub, ice pack on my tired eyes, at 6:15 am.
I was dressed and out the door, hair full bedhead (you can pull this off in the summer with long hair. I'm not saying I'm proud of it. But I wore a tailored outfit to offset it you know?)
I was at my desk by 7:30 am after stopping at Tim Hortons and leaving, crushed with disappointment, when they were out of chocolate chip muffins (stars not aligning this week).
I escaped work at 4 ish to pick up plans and packages at a client's place. After arriving to work at 7:30 am it was all I could do to keep awake by then so it was a welcome respite.
And I had an acupuncture appointment to get to.
After the disaster that was my therapy appointment yesterday, I was looking forward to getting stuck with little needles and lying there (ok, falling asleep immediately) in the dim room in a basement on Bayview.
Last week I was late for my appointment.
This week I was way early.
The sky was clouding over. I was hungry. I found a patio with an awning, ordered a chardonnay and a poutine and relaxed with my work journal, making a to do list. All alone. A family of four arrived approximately 4 minutes into my time there, shattering the reverie, the nervous mother/wife making sure her husband faced the other way, while I pulled out my ipod to block out the sound of her and her irritating pronouncements about the patio, what to order, what to have to drink--you know, the useless prattle of those who are used to not being heard. I texted my friend L. Our texts were not knid--along the lines of 'b*tch please', and I listened to my music, sipped my wine, picked at my food, paid my bill, as rain started to fall (that incomparable smell of summer rain, if they made a candle of that smell I'd buy it by the armload). I gathered myself up, umbrella and all (forethought, yes) and wandered down the street to my appointment, where I got stuck with the needles and promptly fell asleep.
Left there feeling drugged (in the best possible way), drove home on the wind-y Bayview extension and decided to go up to the roof with a book and some water and wine.
I sat. I sipped (after guzzling the water). I stared at the sky, clouds rapidly advancing. I thought. About nothing. I read. The Circle of Quiet book, the quote of which leads off this entry. I watched the birds, looking at their signals as the clouds thickened. My mom always says to watch the birds before a storm. They will fly for cover. When you stop seeing them, the rain is imminent. Slow drops at first. I gathered up my gear. Books, bag, ipod, shoes, glass of wine.
Came back down, ate leftovers, and now here I am. It's bedtime, the rain is pouring outside, that amazing sound, there is a bit of thunder.
Wicked Wednesday is coming to a close.