Dog Days

Arrivial of new moon yesterday brings end to end of string of very trying days. On Monday have unfortuante misunderstanding with the Contessa. Ask genuinely interested questions about the weekend at the vice-boss's (we are on the telephone) while at the same time typing brisk email to professor who in previous email said that she was accustomed to dealing with Your Superior. Do not like the implication, and force used on keyboard perhaps a bit strong. The Contessa, in middle of sentence about the vice-boss declaring that there will be no alcohol for the whole weekend as she is in Recovery and needs all the support she can get and if she catches anybody smoking pot, the pot smoker or smokers will be fired. Also there will be no bread at the house. Her nutritionist has told her (the vice-boss) that she is addicted to bread and that likely her alcohol addiction and her wheat addiction come from the same place. The Contessa asks, Can you believe her? Can hardly belive anything the vice-boss does, but am a bit distracted by wording of email and murmer, So sounds like you had a good time. The Contessa replies in icy tones, Are you even listening to me? Recall self and try to cover saying, I was being sarcastic. The Contessa says shortly, If you are too busy to talk, you can just say so. Tell her I am not too busy, to please tell me more. She says no. Insist. She launches into minute-by-minute description of weekend. Feel phrase, I don't actually care rattling around in head. Want to apply it many times, e.g. about the New Man's cute and devastating play of the word Vodka and subsequent cold fury of the vice-boss during game of Scrabble. Thankfully do not say phrase--not exactly true anyway--just feel that loathe everything. Trip to bathroom and accidental glance into mirror nearly causes severe breakdown (hair once again bushy, face greasy). Go home on subway. Car insufficiently air conditioned and feel bubbling rage at fellow passengers, especially woman who insists on digging her purse into my side. When get home even Jenny slightly unpleasant, snarling when I lift her into the tub to give her a cooling bath. Speak to her sternly which makes her cower and shiver--application of cold water and she is very frisky afterwards, all is forgiven as far as she is concerned, but still feel that am in posession of coal black soul. Feeling furthered by sharply worded exchange between Dave and myself concerning the dresser by the front door, which after weeks of receiving change, junk mail, receipts, a hat, a used coffee mug, keys, a frisbee (?!), half empty waterbottle, and unidentifiable pieces of wadded up paper, has begun to resemble a landfill. Am eloquent on the subject and assign blame. Dave takes exception to my use of the word crap. Fly into a rage. Jenny cowers more, etc. until there is a stony silence and further inward remorse (outwardly do not give an inch.) Suffer crise de nerfs that lasts for rest of night (very disturbing dream about an Armadillo)and into the next day. Attend early morning yoga class in attempt to pull self out of swamp. There is a dangerous moment when woman in front of me misjudges her reach and am kicked in the eye. But somehow, kick (which raises impressive bruise on right temple) restores me to what like to think (though am probably deceiving self) is usual state of patience and good humor.