Down the Rabbit Hole

How to Recognize a Bad Week

I think it speaks volumes that the highlight of my week so far has been finding a correctable ribbon that fits our ancient office typewriter. And while the "snap" as I pressed it into place was satisfying, the volley of hoots and cheers it elicited were wildly inappropriate. It just felt like the only thing that has worked for me this week, and that in itself is evidence that this has really been a lousy few days. It isn't just that I have a sick child at home. It is the combination of the brutal cold, stress at work, a dog that insists that it is too cold or too wet to poop outside, the countless publication submission deadlines I have let slip by and yes, the fact that no matter how closely I follow the doctor's advice, I am still lying awake at night listening to my daughter breathing, her feverish little body pressed against mine in the dark. Last night I sat clutching one of her stuffed bears in my lap, letting my mind go to dark places, places where guilt and blame lie in wait to ambush. It was my mother-in-law who pulled me from my funk, materializing in the doorway of Jaden's room with her kind, concerned eyes. It is funny how, without a common language, some things like comfort and encouragement can still be rendered, wordlessly and without limitation. I really hope Jaden has a better night and that tomorrow she sees real improvement. I hope tomorrow brings better things in general. Hell, at least I have a working typewriter, in the unlikely event I actually need to use it.