The early morning after a snowstorm is so special as the Sun lights a pristine new world.
There’s a hush, broken only by sounds of Nature.
A softness and a stillness.
It’s why I love Winter, even though cold weather is not helpful to my aching body. It doesn’t matter.
These mornings are a balm for my brain.
It’s something I need, of late, that balm.
For a week or more, I’ve been in a funk. Everything annoys me. I am short of patience and it seems that everything is a challenge.
Did it start with the mysterious call, one night that sent a man in a truck to investigate a non-existent gas leak?
Perhaps it was having a credit card compromised, not once, or twice, not even three times. It took four attempts to obtain a new, secure card.
These things happen, God knows. I have been through this more times than I care to remember. What makes my nerves stand on end screaming is the phone calls.
Wading your way through endless menus and waiting on hold, praying you will not be cut off and have to start again. And then the spiel, badly read to you, often in my experience, by someone who is unintelligible.
The latter was my chief complaint with my previous internet provider. It was a herculean effort, but mercifully I have moved on from there.
Instead, I found myself now dealing with individuals who wanted to suggest that my own carelessness had led to my credit card being compromised.
What they suggested was not in fact the case but I know better then to argue with telephone clerks. (I don’t know what fancy title they are given these days to satisfy political correctness, but clerks they are.)
Maybe they do not mean to be condescending but always these days, I feel that such individuals regard me an an old nuisance who is out of touch and possibly a bit senile. Maybe I am too sensitive.
Today I received notification that a delivery had been made but um, no it hadn’t.
The delivery company in question once dropped my shipment at a completely different address. With a little detective work of our own, we located it.
Another time recently, the shipment was just dumped by the end of not even our road, but by the nearest state route. Grant happened to notice the recognizable box as he drove by.
Off he went just now to check and yes, there was our delivery, abandoned on a main road again.
A lot of the drivers are very nice. They have a tough job and probably are not sufficiently appreciated but there are more and more workers who give the appearance of treating their customers with contempt.
It works both ways. I should know. The world is full of anger. It burns my guts to think of it.
So then my nerves get agitated and everything I try to do goes wrong. Computer issues, washing machine issues, things that constantly beep or make noise.
Today I couldn’t get my camera to download.
Interruptions. When I write I like to be left in peace but lately it seems to be just one thing after another.
Dear old Toby comes to sit a dozen times a day on my desk and he’s so frail, I feel I must value every minute I can but it doesn’t help me get things done.
A book I read once talked of “pre-grieving”. I knew exactly what the author meant and I do it myself, pointless though I know it to be. The curse of my life has been separation anxiety. You can’t will it away.
Next week promises to be tedious with a series of appointments one of which is with the new psychiatrist that has “inherited” me. I was reluctant to attend a “Behavioral Health” clinic. Talk of political correctness. Could they not call it something a little less insulting?
The only time my behavior gets out of order is when people irritate the shit out of me!
However, in order to get prescriptions for anti-depressants, one has to adhere to the protocol.
So, four months ago I gritted my teeth and went to meet my new psychiatrist. How do you sum up half a life’s worth of therapy in 45 minutes? The man seemed nice enough and he modified my prescription.
Three weeks later, the poor man died. Which is what I meant when I said I have been “inherited” by the new doctor. Maybe deep down, this is what I am truly nervous about.
Talking about all that stuff. I had boxed it up finally and packed it away. Didn’t want to think about it anymore.
But no, I’ll have to drag it back out and talk about it to satisfy the requirements.
Really, I would rather be beaten with a big stick.
Never mind. It will pass.
Remember all those mice we rescued….those are their tracks in the snow.
Oh…and a few more birds….