It is definitely a Murphy day. I awoke at 7am worried about the report I had picked up the previous afternoon only to find that my thyroid hormone TSH (better known to me as That Shitty Hormone) had shot way out of proportion to the norm and couldn’t go back to sleep again. I decided to get up and look for back reports of the TSH. On the way in to the studio, I changed my mind and turned on the computer thinking I might catch Doug on line and be able to chat for a while (that would take my mind off the “problem”). Doug was not on, but there was a very sardonic message from him about my upcoming appointment with the Sports Medicine Department of the University, pooh-poohing professionals in an extremely put-down way. I didn’t even choose to notice he closed with kisses and hugs. Feeling half way between sad and irritated, I answered, but he was not on line so that wasn’t satisfactory. I called. No answer: “I am out, so you are on” now sounded fresh and sarcastic, unfriendly. I left a limp message. I called his cell phone: operator message: “The owner of this line has not set up his voice message…” I hung up.

            Frustration was now reaching tear level. Salomé had worked her way between my knees with her muzzle and was gazing up at me mournfully as if asking if we were ever going to go out and get her to a wee-wee spot, so I knew it was time. We went to the park; much too late to do Chi Kung. I walked trying to concentrate on the birds, the grass, the sunlight… something of nature that would get me back into my gentleness, but there was no way. Morosely I returned to the house.

            Once home I read my e-mail. In response to a mail, I pushed Ctrl-ç and suddenly the letters on the mail grew larger; I pushed another key to see if I could get it to go back to normal: nothing. I pushed Ctrl-ç again and the letters got so large they went off the page. I closed my e-mail: the beautiful photo of Salies on my desktop had disappeared and there was nothing but a blank blue back-ground with my programs on it. I pushed here and there, tried to do a “return to an earlier setting”… nothing worked: my e-mail had all the letters and icons so enlarged that they spilled off the page on the right hand side and to read anything I had to scroll over way to the right and then back to the left. The only advantage was I didn’t need my reading glasses. I called the computer guy. He couldn’t fix it over the phone: a house call later today. Horrors. I wrote the e-mail as best I could.

            I tried to call Doug again, beginning to realize that I was using his absence and what I had felt as an un-loving message to feel terribly sorry for myself. A thought popped up: “I don’t want to die”. Now, is that true? Well, for today yes. Can you absolutely know that it is true that “You don’t want to die” (oh, for god’s sake, Byron Katie: shut up!!!) Yes. I don’t want to die, now fuck off.  It was getting to dangerous levels.

I tried Doug again. By this time it was 2am for him so the chances of his picking up the phone were very scarce. I hung up without leaving a message. Now I was really feeling sorry for myself.

            I opened my computer programs again. E-mail continued its elephantism. I looked at a few menus and found one that said “zoom”, opened it and pushed 100%. It worked, things went back to normal. I opened my “desktop” (blue) and reinstalled my photograph: fixed. God knows what I did. I sent a message cancelling the visit from the computer guy. Still no sign of Doug on line. I told myself firmly to stop looking for him. His voice entered my head: “If I don’t call, it just means I don’t call”. Fuck you D’Agrosa! Fuck D’Agrosa, fuck Byron Katie, fuck Madrid…  I want to go back to Salies, I want summer to be as it was for all of August, I want to write, I want to cry, I want things to stop changing… Is that true? Oh God! No, for fucking Christ’s sake, no, no, no. I will now get dressed, go to the doctor and find out why the Fucking TSH has shot off the charts… I hadn’t ever noticed how calming the f____ word is. So, I will now continue with this fucking Murphy day; very fucking definitely a Murphy Day.