February 2: From Hectic to Worse, Lost Phone, "Ives" Dip

Sorry, I didn't post this cartoon yesterday:

Confessions of Saint Marty

Today was one of those off days.  You know what I'm talking about.  It was a day that started strangely (with an early morning meeting) and never seemed to fall into place for me.  Most of the morning, I was trying to complete the steps for my annual evaluation at the university.  Then, when I finally got that in hand, the fire alarm went off in the medical center, and we had to evacuate.  (Nothing too serious.  A kid decided to pull the pretty red handle on the wall to see what happened.)

Then, when I left the medical office, I had to shuttle my daughter back and forth to her dance studio, conduct a meeting with student poetry editors of the university's literary magazine, and give my son a bath.  And then, just when I think things couldn't get any more hectic or stressful, I have lost my cell phone (for the second time in a week).  Now, before you think to yourself, "Why doesn't the dumbass just call it?"--I did.  The phone went directly to voice mail, which probably means that it's sitting in a snowbank somewhere, slowly turning into a hunk of frozen metal.

And, to top it all off, my sister (the one who just spent a couple of weeks in the hospital) fell at home about an hour ago.  I got a phone call from another sister, asking me to come help.  When I got there, my sister was on the floor, shivering, nauseated.  She had a fever of 102 and didn't have the strength to move.  I didn't want to risk moving her, so I said to call an ambulance.  Everyone agreed.

So, here I sit, at the end of a day that went from hectic to worse.  My question for Ives tonight is this:

When does life get easier?

And the answer:

She wasn't young.  Once she had started to hit her fifties, not only had her resolve weakened but so had her body:  limbs heavier, years of smoking catching up, and a kind of weariness aging her, Annie MacGuire slowly came to regret certain of her choices in life.  On many a day, she would leave the apartment and go about her business, wishing she were a different kind of person...

Nice.  So, when Saint Marty's old with heavy limbs, he's going to start regretting his life choices.  Paging Dr. Kevorkian.

Speaking of regretting life choices...