Caterwauling

My broadcasting system failed me again tonight. And no I didn’t hit any wrong buttons. But hitting the RIGHT buttons repeatedly yielded zero results, and I had to go in a back way.

The very way I learned completely by accident on Friday. Which worked like a charm tonight as my desperate Plan B.

Go figure.

As I was struggling to launch the thing the traditional way, everyone said goodbye and frolicked out. “Hope you figure out how to fix it!”

I fixed it, all right.

And when I fixed it, my colleague was having broadcasting problems of his own.

Now I could have said, “Oh hey, good luck!” like everyone else did.

But that’s not me. Captain and ship and all that jazz.

I hung around and offered help. He tried what he knew. Then he said, OK, since you stayed and might have an idea.

I found the problem quickly.

In any event, even though I’m at about a 47 on the 1-to-10 anxiety scale, I was really glad that A) I didn’t need anybody to help me, and B) I could help someone else in an area that’s inadvertently become an expertise.

It’s an hour of my life I won’t get back, but it sure beat what else I had planned for that hour-ish. Jobs are all about people — that’s what you leave behind, and that’s what you take with you. So, if I measure by that, I’ll call it a good day.

“Got enough guilt to start
my own religion.”

— Tori Amos, “Crucify”

From the “shut up, things could be worse” files, remember I said I ached for the man who accidentally killed my classmate’s teenage daughter as she walked across the street?

A friend from back home landed in the hospital. Her nurse said the guy had recently come in — with a massive heart attack.

She didn’t disclose anything — no name, current condition or whether he pulled through — but damn. This is killing him.

If that doesn’t put life’s little annoyances into perspective, nothing does. I am such a careful driver, and I have super-shitty cars so I am EXTRA nervous at all times, that being his shoes would be the last you see of me. I promise you that.

The nurse, as it happens, knows my classmate. Said she’s quiet, a good mom, hard-working. That she really counted on her older daughter to help with the younger kids.

That saddened me more — the girl was probably racing home to meet their schoolbus. She wasn’t goofing off with friends or going to go smoke behind the building like I used to do at that age. 🙂

And that’s the thanks we get for being good. The second our luck runs out, well, that’s it.

Our driver’s health collapses under his guilt that he never deserved to have to endure. A light goes out in a good family. Thousands of people all over the country hug their kids a little tighter because they can.

And … well, we forget till the next little earthquake erupts and we do it all over again and OMG CRISIS over something stupid like hitting a wrong button.

If this is the worst it gets for me, though, it’s pretty fucking good, wouldn’t you agree?