Ahhhh… a quiet Sunday at work. Mother’s milk for an uneasy soul.
Last week was hellish. H.E.L.L.I.S.H. Busy at work. In the midst of moving dwellings.
Friday was a non-stop rush of anxiety. 5 funerals going out, 3 of which were arrangements that I made. No ego-speak here. Just worrisome thoughts about what was happening on all of the other funerals that I arranged but wasn’t taking out.
“Did I order the vault?”
“Did the unable-to-answer-the-fucking-phone cemetery guy actually get the grave dug?”
Not to mention that is was supposed to be my day off. And I was working.
One of the families was one of those wonderfully inflexible, it’s-our-way-or-the-highway types. Not willing to listen to me for advice (hey, what the fuck do I know, I’ve only been doing this for 20 years, right?)
Stressed me to to the limit.
AND I had a wedding to officiate on Saturday, and weddings always provide ripe fertilizer for the Garden of the Anxious.
Alas, all went well, including the wedding. It was probably the shortest that I had ever done, and that done at request of the bride.
Short and simple, she said.
And that’s what she got.
And today, I’m just done. Tired and done. I didn’t even want to think about making another funeral arrangement today.
Or writing for that matter. But I owe you dear readers words.
Even if it’s only me venting.
More quality stuff will follow, I promise.
Cheers to a quiet Sunday for all.