By any objective measure, I am one of the blessed in this world: I have material comfort, I get paid to do things that I'd do for free if I had to, and I am not constrained unduly by physical, intellectual, or emotional impairments. Doesn't get much better than this, I know.  I really do know it.   But some days......

First, I have had a headache that wouldn't quit. I attributed it to the stress of not knowing what my academic future was, and by 3 pm, I decided to just take heavy-duty headache drugs (again) and lie down.  That, of course, is when the phone rang.  (It's always like on that on days like these.)  Finally, I would learn my academic future. 

As happens so often in my life, it was not to be so simple.   My performance on my comps wasn't up to expectations, as I had noted, said the voice (of a friend and colleague I respect, I must add).  And "they" know it's not all that I am capable of.  So they want more on which to evaluate what I know.  I have  two choices:  I can write the exam again (two days, four hours each, lest we forget), or I can do a follow-up oral exam for up to 90 minutes.   Either option would happen within the next three weeks.  What did I think?

I thought this was a reasonable response on the part of the university. More than reasonable, when I learned that I'd be questioned on the concepts in calculus, and my answers would be "probed" in other sections, rather than whole new questions being asked.  On an emotional level, I wanted to scream. I did scream.  Sort of.  In a half-humourous way. "Don't these things ever end?" I asked.  And then I thought, they never end quite as easily for me as they do for others, but I have to assume that's a result of my style, rather than fate picking on me.  After saying I'd think about it, I called my life partner.  He said, "Tell them you'll do it tomorrow."  Once he said that, I realized that I'd do it, even if I didn't want to, because it was a reasonable response, and since I've always "talked a better game than I've played", an oral follow-up could only be to my advantage.  I called back; I'd do it, next week if possible.

The stress was gone, but the headache wasn't.  So I thought I'd nap.  I should never nap.  Naps make me cranky.  Always have, as I recall my mother telling me.  Being tired makes me cranky, too, but not as intensely cranky as when I wake up from a too-long nap.  Too long is anything over a half-hour.   This one turned into two hours.  I think I'm still cranky, several hours later.

And then, to "cap" off my day (if bad puns are permitted on bad days), I realized that two of the largely synthetic teeth I've had built this year had chipped.  I'm scheduled to have them crowned in two weeks, but of course, the synthetic reconstructions didn't quite make it.  The year of the dentist continues.  I'm scheduled for a cleaning on Saturday anyway; maybe my dentist will feel sorry for me, come in early, and agree to do a quick repair job while I'm there.  But if they'd held up just two more weeks, I could have skipped another expense and freezing and drilling and more.

When I realize how fleeting these problems are, and how all the things that matter -- people, health, interesting work, and more -- are magical in my life, I know that it's one bad day in a pretty darned wonderful life.  But still.. I could live without days like this one.

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