In reference to my earlier post today, it has been a pretty good day. No heated arguments with AEs. I made a lot of progress on an annual report I'm working on until I "shut down" at 5:15, realizing that the format I had chosen won't work because I am already at 38 pages without the cover -- and we've budgeted 36 including cover.
I am just feeling a bit contemplative right now.
First, I'm sad that I am home now, alone, with the exception of Doris and Billie who constantly need a cookie and will stalk me if they don't get it (whose fault is that?, you may ask). The love of my life is going to be gone for the next three days -- and these feelings are not unusual. For the last thirteen years he's been gone several days a week, working, and I miss him every minute he's gone. I know this may sound so petty given the thousands of families who live without their loved ones while they are in Iraq or stationed in Germany or wherever else to protect our way of living -- be it truth or not -- but it's tough. He is my best friend. We do most everything together.
There are a few things we don't share. One of them is finances. And, before I left my office tonight I checked my bank balance so I could be educated about what I had available to pay bills tomorrow. It wasn't pretty. And, I really was surprised by what I learned. "F"-ing math. How the hell one little mistake in subtraction ends up in $200+ overdraft charges still escapes me after all these years.
So, as I was driving home, I thought I'd come home and do some sort of "audit" so I could give American Express an honest answer about when they could expect my account to be paid. I got out of the car, walked up the steps to the front porch and peeked in the windows to see two very excited 50+ pound dogs waiting for me to open the door. And, honestly, I was equally as excited to see them. Talk about unconditional love.
Before I opened the door, I opened the mailbox. Hooray! Two new magazines, one in a white wrapper to hide its identity from the rest of the world, and another chock full of things that I couldn't possibly afford. Even though I knew that these were either distractions from the course I'd set for myself for the evening, or answered prayers to divert my attention from the disaster called my finances, I opened the one in the white overwrap first, guessing it was "Out". I opened a few envelopes that littered the pile of mail that contained offers for refinancing my house because creditors are doubling minimum payments that asked, "can you handle it", or another for the "safe driver" at my address. I opened the other magazine, "Departures" which I am sure AmEx will repossess once I send them back my Platinum card. I threw away the Macy's mattress offer that comes seemingly every week and a couple of other usless wastes of paper.
So, I figured that a martini and a cigarette was a good way to start the evening before I began my audit. And a quick glance at what "Out" had in store for this month wouldn't hurt. I made the drink, grabbed my cigs and phone and went out back. Sitting my drink on the bar, I grabbed the koi food and fed the eagerly awaiting fish. I sat down, loved on Doris while Billie was in the back forty searching for an imaginary intruder and noticed a note I'd scrawled on a pad Saturday night when a friend, one I've had since third grade, called me after having been out of touch for four years. So, I programmed the number into my phone and tried to give him a call. He's on a ranch somewhere in Wyoming where they don't have mobile phone towers, so I'm sure he'll get the message later.
I picked up "Out",and was immediately intrigued by an entry in the Contents: ART + DESIGN "Speeding". Actually, I was probably more intrigued by the black and white photo referencing the article -- rough trade with boxing gloves on. So, I looked at that first. I read the article and thought, "I think I'd like that book in my library of 'art books'". Then I flipped backward to read Cynthia O'Neill's article, "Life, The Musical." It was about the pending opening of the screen version of "Rent".
First, if you haven't seen "Rent" on stage, you must. O'Neill mentions seeing it in East Village before it moved to Broadway. I was lucky enough to see it at the Normandie Theatre after it had moved. It was very moving. Sad, but uplifting. Almost empowering. Kind of like O'Neill's retelling of the events leading up the the successful production of the show. Some people might be uncomfortable with some of the story. But they need to get past that. Reading her words about meeting the author of the musical during the time he was developing the work, his death before the show opened and how this all touched her moved me to tears. Especially when you consider the "coincidence" that Jonathan Larson, the author of "Rent" had contacted her a second time to ask her to speak to his cast on January 17, 1996. This was her 38th wedding anniversary, her first without her husband. He had died in 1995.
Yes, I do believe in divine intervention, or that everything happens for a reason. This was obviously a wonderful experience for her. And, if she'd said "no" to the phone call, imagine what she'd have missed.
I don't know what the future holds for me, but for now, I am thankful to be alive, to be loved, to love. I am glad to have had a good day at work. I feel blessed to have been able to come home to a warm home with anxioulsly-awaiting "children". I'll love my leftover spaghetti and get on with figuring out how I'm going to pay these bills. And, I am thankful that I have bills I can't pay, at least for today.
Anyone want to buy a built-only-one-year 1967 Grand Prix convertible that needs a little work for $13,000?