Tag Archives: irritation

Can of Worms


Woke up this morning,
said to myself
It’s time to apply for unemployment.
Right in the middle,
the website crashed.
I couldn’t log on to my kids’ iPad
to install the Kids’ Messenger app
because I had forgotten my
Apple ID password,
and there was a whole process involved to reset it.
Then I couldn’t log on to my Human Resources account
to cash in my ONE hour of paid sick leave
and this is after going back and forth via email
with someone from HR this whole week.
Then my friend told me an email she sent
got bounced back…
one of my email accounts has a totally full inbox.
I’m thinking to myself,
Screw technology.
I mean, really all that happened
is that I’m home and finally have the time
to take the lid off this can of worms.
Technology feels gross right now.
But it’s the only way to stay connected right now.
So I need to get over myself
and just handle this can of worms.

Westminster Court


I’m sitting in my car. I arrived an hour before my appointed court time. I’m feeling anxious. It was a minor violation–I didn’t realize I had to change lanes when I drove past a stopped police vehicle. The officer had pulled somebody over, and yet another officer, who was driving behind me, saw me fail to change lanes, pulled me over, and wrote me a ticket. I was really irritated by the whole thing. I had slowed way down when I passed the stopped police car; I was approaching a yellow light and preparing to stop. I had my two kids in the car and we were going to my nephew and niece’s shared birthday party. Their dad is also a state trooper. But the guy who pulled me over didn’t seem to be impressed by that fact. He cut me no slack.

So here I am, feeling anxious about standing up in a courtroom and talking to a judge. Deep down I know that everything is going to be ok. There is no real problem here. I am safe. But for some reason, just the thought of being in court, the thought of having to speak in public, the memory of the officer taking no pity on me–all of this is adding up to a feeling of dread in the pit of my stomach.

But the yogini in me knows that I can breathe. And breathe again. And breathe again. This will soon be over, and I can carry on with my daily life regardless of the outcome.

I’ll repeat my mantram. I’ll go to the bathroom and apply some lipgloss. I’ll keep breathing. I’ll knit a couple of rows.

Om mani padme hum.