A Cup Of Comfort

Yesterday did not start auspiciously. Unless auspicious means that it began with the jangling crash of heck(1) and went down hill from there.

It began in fact, by waking up 35 minutes before my alarm was due to go off, needing to visit the loo. I don't know about you, but at this point, an internal war begins. One side insists that I should simply get up, have a nice shower, drink a leisurely cup off coffee, and start my day off as a civilized person. The other side is equally sensible, but slightly more manipulative, insisting that it is cold in the house, and my flannel duvet cover is warm, and really, I am very tired.

Back to bed always wins, I find myself crawling back into warmth, dislodging cats who have taken over, and trying to fit my legs into the impossibly small space left me. I look at the time on my alarm clock and it is already too late, and I will myself back to sleep. When my alarm goes off, too soon! I insist that I am tired still, and I hit snooze more than I should.

When I finally dragged myself out of bed, Mr. Spit greeted me (back in the loo) with an empty coffee bean jar in his hands. There were, oh, as many as 30 coffee beans in the bottom of the jar, and that was not going to do it. I began my drive into work, satiated by a cup of mostly decaf coffee, with egg nog, the cream having met a similar destiny to the coffee beans.

The drive was chaotic and traffic-filled, and the news on the radio was all bad news, and I arrived to my office 10 minutes late, having been waylaid by construction, and a stalled, abandoned car in the middle of the busiest downtown street.

I was required to navigate the vicissitudes of office politics, with a focus on naming and blaming, and a minor in ridiculous and unreasonable expectations, all before 9:15 am, and with no coffee. Before 9:30 a colleague was earnestly requesting that I silently assassinate another department at my company, indeed a skill I have not been keeping hidden in my back pocket.

It was 9:45, and I was quite ready to consign this day to the rubbish heap, pleading with Phil, the denzien of heck, and also the prince of insufficient light, to make this day end.

But, a miracle did occur.

At 10:35 or so this morning, I was offered a new job. Well, a new title, reporting into a new division, with new responsibilities, for a one year secondment. No extra money, but henceforth, you may refer to me as Mrs. Spit, Business Analyst. (I'm actually quite firm on this, and have been making Mr. Spit call me this all night.)

Finally, I came home today, to a package (and if I have loved anything about blogging, it is the sending and receiving of packages). This one was full of love from Jen and Jamie. Filled with hot chocolate and gourmet marshmallows (who knew there was such a thing) and bubble bath. The spaces filled with love and care and concern, kindness and mercy and grace.

Even a happy life cannot be without a measure of darkness, and the word happy would lose its meaning if it were not balanced by sadness. It is far better take things as they come along with patience and equanimity.
Carl Jung

(still working on that equanimity thing)
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(1) I actually do believe in hell. I didn't start my morning there. Not even close.