2003-01-16
As soon as things seem to get back to normal, something else pops up. Yesterday Clay went back to daycare. Then late last night, around three, B started throwing up and has been in a state of nauseated delirium ever since (he's moaning as I write this).
So I took Clay to daycare this morning, only to see a big note on the door reminding us that they'll be closed this coming Monday for Martin Luther King's birthday. My company doesn't observe this holiday and B's already critically behind from the chicken pox episode let alone this current ailment. Oh, and right now it's snowing, and we live in a place where a small amount of snow can be a big deal.
I don't recall ever yearning so much for routine. All I want is to be able to go to work! Which is kind of surprising considering I'm no great fan of work in general or my job in particular.
Today my therapist spilled his coffee during our session. He's kind of a jumpy guy, and somehow, over it went. I screamed and said, "Wow, that's the kind of thing I usually do!" He said, "I need to get this up so it doesn't stain, but I can listen while I do it." Then he disappeared for what seemed like a long time--possibly to confer with his wife, with whom he shares the office--and reappeared with a roll of paper towels and a spray bottle of some kind of cleaner.
I attempted to resume my chatter and he did a pretty thorough job of blotting then cleaning the spill. At one point he was pulling the trigger of the spray bottle but nothing was coming out and I was thinking "Turn the nozzle!" and finally he did and looked at me and we both laughed.
It was kind of humanizing, kind of intimate, really, to have him going about this housekeeping task while I talked about my issues. Because that's the way friends interact sometimes, with one person half listening, half distracted. Whereas you pay the shrink to pay full attention. And that full attention is valuable, but this deviation was also valuable. It made me feel closer to him, going through this little mini-experience together.
It still surprises me sometimes, the kinship I can feel with someone who is so superficially different from me--he's this tall, somewhat awkward man with a mustache and a suit and tie, quite a bit older than I and almost certainly from a very different kind of background. I really feel like I can be myself with him.
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