It was 11 and a half hours of work again.  I gobbled a sandwich and a
half in less than a minute, and went to the powder room twice.  That
was it.
 
The new computer I put in Saturday until late at night after a full day
of work is not relating to the old software.  I cannot interface them.
Emergencies arise.  I end up 40 minutes late for the last person------
Inexcusable.
 
I am truly too tired to care much, though I apologize.  That is sooo
not me.
 
By the time I get in the door at home, there are 4 more work related
calls I must return, while I spend over 2 hours cleaning floors,
newspapers, boxes, and change all the food and water bowls, give meds,
brush the cats, syringe feed, get the morning soup ready, hold
Cheyenne--crying and kissing him.  Knowing he will be dead soon.
 
Mini-Me attacks Maria and Waldo, and I rescue.  I am ridden with guilt
that any unhappiness should occur in my home like this.  It is so
stressing to me.  I have paper work that must be done.  I do it while
returning calls, and handing out chicken treats.
 
My eyes burn again.  Too many hours.  Too old for this.  I feel like I am
burning up with a fever.  But I'm not.  It is my body-It is burnt out.
And it is only Monday.
 
I drag my body up and open the porch door.  The intense summer heat hits
the air conditioned frost.  A scratching noise somewhere close, and
Mini-Me has climbed straight up the screen door to stand with claws stuck
in mesh right next to my head.
 
We suck up the summer air, and listen to the loudness of the crickets.  A
faint breeze stirs the leaves of the trees.  One of the foxes comes our
way--it zigzags twice like a football player, and sharply turns away and
sprints across the field.  The ducks call out a warning across the lake:
fox on the prowel.  Fox on the prowel.
 
I turn my head and kiss Mini-Me on her tiny weasel head.  So delicate and
fine boned.  I stare for a moment at her beauty in the dark.  She has doe
eyes that tilt like an oriental princess..  And she looks like she is
smiling.  Standing on the screen right next to my head.
 
I unlatch the Mini from the screen and close the door.  Back to the frost
and work to be done.
 
But its all right now.  I smile realizing it.  I am at peace:
Sharing one minute of serenity with the terrible, wonderful Mini-Me.
[Posted in FML issue 3873]