March 20: Quiet Before the Storm

All morning, all afternoon.  Quiet.  No phones ringing off the hook.  Faxes have been trickling in by electronic Snail Express.  I've had time to think and reflect today.  I worked with people who don't drive me insane, and one of them even bought me a dessert from a bake sale downstairs.  By all this evidence, you may say that I've had a good day.

And I have.

However, when my morning and afternoon is so blissfully non-hectic, I expect the night to go straight to hell.  There's always a quiet before the storm.  I might come down with the stomach flu.  I'll go out to my car after work, and one of my tires will be flat.  My son will crap his pants.  My daughter will fall in dance class and break every toe on her left foot.  Something's going to happen.  Bliss can't exist without payment.

That may sound incredibly pessimistic, but it's a rule I live my life by.  Enjoy the goodness now, because, in a short while, the conductor of the Bliss Express is going to be coming through to collect the tickets.  If you don't have a ticket, he's going to throw you off the train as it's rumbling across a trestle over a deep ravine.

Perhaps today will be different.  Perhaps I will have a completely happy day.  No drama.  No catastrophe.  No phone calls from bill collectors.  Just blue sky and melting snow and a thick, gooey brownie at the end of the day.  And...

A fax just came in.  The phone's ringing.  My e-mail is flashing "You've got mail!"

It's time for Saint Marty to pay up.  Bliss ain't cheap.

Storms a' comin'