Salamander
Fire Walking

I just got back from the emergency room. I had to take the employee who reports directly to me there after he reported having chest pains to our infirmary, and then failed to follow their advice to go the hospital to have an EKG. He's a bit of a hypochondriac, and I think he was surprised to be caught out when the infirmary took his complaint seriously. Anyhow, just because he's cried wolf before didn't mean he was doing so now, and I ended up escorting him to the local ER. I was there three and a half hours. At least it gave me the opportunity to see most of the service at the national cathedral at noon in Washington, D.C. today.

The Professor and I have been tense all week over stupid stuff like dishes. We'd both been glued to the television each evening, and going to bed exhausted each night when we finally couldn't take any more. We've bickered over what the appropriate U.S. response should be, about the renewal of patriotic fervor in the wake of this catastrophe, and about doing dishes (wish that wasn't true, but alas, it is).

Last night I ended up doing dishes again. I was already grumpy when I sat down to dinner. After I was finished eating The Prof made a big deal about something I didn't consider important, making me do something I considered unnecessary and further annoying me. After I'd cleaned off the table, we sat down in front of the television, and he started to come on to me. It's what he does to try to make up, but I was just too anxious, pissed, cross, annoyed, bitchy to respond.

And then he started to cry. As he was sobbing, he tried to explain that he realized he was doing nothing but annoy me, and that was the last thing he wanted, and he was sorry. And I lost it too. We ended up sobbing in each others arms. We've both been profoundly affect by this week's events, and his way of dealing is at right angles to mine. We spoke of feeling ineffectual, of anger at an unknown enemy, at a need for vengence. He sobbed as he spoke about watching the film clips of people jumping to certain death from the towers. I told him of my secret fears for my best friend, who I knew was flying out to California sometime around now, and who wasn't replying to my e-mails (something that's never happened before) and whose cell phone would give me nothing but the message service. We both cried until there were no tears left.

After, we tried to watch the news updates, but when they again showed a clip of someone falling I couldn't take any more. We went to bed, and I fell asleep in his arms.

In the Life-Goes-On Department, my younger sister turns 44 today. Elder Sister and I will be going to Younger Sister's tomorrow evening to give her her gifts and have a brief visit. So close to the first anniversary of my mother's death (which is next Wednesday) and on the heels of September 11th, it will not be a very happy birthday for her.