Backing Up Lombard Street

Why can't I just get in my lifecar and drive? Why are there so many twists and turns, seemingly never a straight, flat stretch of road? And where is the off-ramp? As I was looking for analogies last night after another dissatisfying day, all I could think of was Lombard Street in San Francisco. But Lombard Street is relatively short and the nerve-wracking nature of driving there is over quickly. My personal Lombard Street seems to be never-ending.

I'm having a hard time getting over the fact that I had to take leave without pay on Monday for my forced day of relaxation in Dallas. If Ken weren't such a control freak manager, I could have worked remotely from my hotel and then TJ's living room. Instead, my paycheck next week will be thinner and I'm really scrambling this week to catch up three days of missed work rather than two.

That's the work-side of my trauma.

Then the Professor made a statement on Tuesday that threw me into a tailspin. It all began innocently enough, with my probing for his attitude about Frank coming into my house and taking care of Rudi while I'm gone. The Professor stated, "You're entitled to have all the friends and lovers you want." Darn it, I don't want a ton o' lovers. I want one. And I want one who doesn't want me to have any others but him. I want to matter. I want some man to want me all for himself, to recognize the wonder of the amount of love I have to give and what an exquisite relationship we could have together.

I mentioned something about the Professor to Tyler and Jaci. Jaci — so good at cutting right to the core issue of a matter — asked, "Are you and the Professor dating?" I paused for a very long time before replying, "I don't know."

So that's the dating side of my trauma.

And then for a final blow, a sharp knife-blade inserted into the heart of yesterday's depression, I noticed yet another Tucson driver on the interstate had thrown yet another stone at my windshield and now I must have my windshield replaced. Yes, I know insurance will pay for it. Yes, I know they'll come right to your office to replace it. But I have to spend time on the phone making the arrangements with USAA. And when it's all over, I have to find the time to go stand in line at Davis-Monthan to get a new base pass for my windshield.

It's always something. I would like for it to be nothing for a while. I'd like this blog to be a Seinfeld episode for a while — "it's all about nothing."

Or for Glinda to hover over me with her wand and just wave it to pull everything back into order. Whatever "order" is.