…a great big box, airtight, maybe with a nice concrete base to make it heavy. And into that box I will put the one person who always knows exactly the wrong (right for them) time to get in touch.
Because I was studying. My first essay was started, I was 200 words in and it was looking ok for a first draft. Why the past tense? The phone rang. And I was kind of engrossed, up to my eyes in books and papers and words. So I didn’t look at the caller ID.
I won’t say who it was because you never know where something on a public blog might end up.
But my day is now upside down. Five words was all it took, although I knew the voice instantly. I hung up. I sat in disbelief for a moment, not at the caller but at my own stupidity in answering without checking the number. I’ve done the screamy-shouty-ranty-ravey bit. I’ve done the angry throwing things bit. I’ve showered in a desperate attempt to stop my skin crawling. I’ve spoken to my CPN and grounded myself.
I’ll be ok. Not because I want to be but because I have to be. Because I have no choice but to be ok.
But it hurts like a bitch and has sent me right back to a time I thought I’d left behind. No such luck.
I had planned to take a trip this week but put it on hold to get my essays done. I will stop this, in person. Looks like I’m heading home tomorrow.