Melancholy

It's 4:16 a.m., so writing my blog is about the last thing I need to be doing at the moment. But I can't sleep, and I find myself very worrried about all the things I need to do today (and whether I can really do them). I'm tired and stressed-out, and I very much wish several things: (i) that I didn't need to pack for a long weekend away this weekend, (ii) that I weren't flying a tiny plane that will probably make me check my bag that has fragile (luggage-handler-wreckable) Christmas presents in it, (iii) that I had room for adequate clothes AND gifts in one bag, (iv) that I could just wear sweats and a ski jacket all weekend instead of feeling obliged to bring stupid dress-up clothes, (v) that I didn't have to think through all the pointless so-called "security measures" when planning what I will bring on the plane and how, (vi) that I didn't have an unexpected project with an unexpected deadline blindside me Tuesday and thus have to stay late the last 2 days to deal with it, (vii) that I wasn't obliged to go to a celebratory dinner with my colleagues Tuesday night, (viii) that the laundry machine had been working Monday when I tried to do a long-overdue load of laundry so I wouldn't have had to juggle in a trip to the laundromat, (ix) that I had to skip out on a prior obligation on Sunday that would have boosted my mood, (x) that I hadn't already lost every opportunity to accomplish necessary tasks and chores last weekend due to my whirlwind trip out of town that left me bedraggled and exhausted on Sunday and ill-equipped to deal with my week, (xi) that I hadn't committed to meeting up with some friends Sunday afternoon - friends who, through a series of unfortunate events, were an hour late meeting me, thus throwing off my schedule and making it impossible for me to prepare for the thing I wanted to do Sunday evening, (xii) that we didn't have 2 major projects due this week in a group outside of work, (xiii) that I had time for a pedicure and a haircut, (xiv) that my tailor didn't call me with questions that required me to stop by last night, (xv) that I didn't have a host of other petty personal concerns weighing me down (men, ambition, health of my newest relative, household chores). Oh yes, and that I didn't feel like I've been coming down with something for the past 7 days. And did I mention that the dinner on Tuesday meant that I couldn't attend the Traveler's Christmas Eve service at my church?

So yesterday morning, at work, I got a call from a number I didn't recognize. I will re-construct the beginning of the call here for your edification.

Caller: "Z here. Are you happy?"
Me: "Am I happy?"
Slight pause, while I realize that this shockingly personal question from a professional colleague/acquaintance must have the implied qualifier "in your current job".
Me: "Oh, yes. It's good for now. Thanks."
Caller: "I just thought you looked really stressed yesterday. Not that I can do anything about it at the moment. But let me know."

Ironically, Z was part of the issue in item #vi above.

Bear with me, because these two pictures may at first appear to be a frolic and detour (or at least an abrupt changing of the subject). Here is a view from the Torre Guignol this summer, showing the lovely rooftops of Lucca:


I didn't realize right away what was written on one of the rooftops:


Things will get better. I'll plan on picking up my laundry, artwork, and tailoring next week, which is also when I will write my Christmas cards (aka "New Year's cards").

Good night & merry Christmas to all.