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.

Joy.

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.