grumble, grumble

It didn't start out as a shit day.  

I woke in his bed, albeit late, and hurried to get at least a shower before my standing babysitting date with Baby Girl.  Her mom called to cancel as I was en route to my house, so I turned the car around - I had left a dryer-ful of wet clothes tumbling, and the heat turned up, and all of my stuff.  Nevertheless, the day began in his bed, in his room where parts of him still permeate the space.  

Once I returned to his house I ceremoniously made breakfast out of Dunkin' Doughnut's coffee and an Odwalla bar.  I opened the back door to listen to the wind howl through trees and in and out of the eaves, and told myself not to move until my coffee was finished or Caligula was read in entirety.  I think it was the suggestive winds that moved me from the sofa, though, the ones that made me think I should make my way to the half bath beneath the stairwell.  It was a crazy storm but short-lived, and it ended just about as quickly as it had suddenly come on.  The wind calmed and my last load of clothes buzzed - finished.  I folded and stacked them in the basket and left for my place.

Wordsworth's "Prelude."

A glance at Knights of the Round Table. 

Class.

A quick errand to public relations for a grad newsletter for which I needed to get approval.  Except the "communications specialist" who was merely supposed to okay a photo I borrowed from the school website took her own creative liberty to rape my work of any personality or style.  No, I'm not talking about corrected comma splices, I'm referencing RI-diculous editing.  I tried to maintain composure in the pub. relations office, also crossing campus, through a phone call that I thought might save my slipping grasp of emotion, and entering the upstairs lady's room where I eventually let myself unravel.  Picture the absurdity of my adult self sobbing in the vintage-teal refuge of a public restroom stall.  Mascara ran.  Snot ran.  Tears stained my shirt.

So that's where the captive feelings have been hiding, waiting for something trivial to unleash them.  Granted, I'm still livid about the newsletter and the arrogance it took to edit the free speech and character out of it, but it really didn't call for a total meltdown.  There's still time for this deployment to make me a crazy person.  I'm only hopeful that this is a rare occasion...