Lukewarm Greetings

The morning had started off well. Manny slept in, giving me a little extra time to catch up on beauty sleep. No violent thunder storms had kept me up all night, and there were no obvious signs of further damage to the infrastructure of my house. I did not wake to any horrendous emails from camp about unspeakable tragedies at camp or phone calls about my mother's latest trip to the emergency room, and I am still feeling relieved from having spoken to my daughter yesterday. She is incredibly sad, but intact.

Manny and I took a relaxing walk in the early morning sunshine, and he, as is typical these days, made me proud by not barking at runners and walkers and other dogs passing by. There are a few benefits to having a blind dog. He didn't even give me the guilts when I packed up my stuff and headed to the car without him, and, though I am well aware of his propensity for spiteful behavior, I am no longer worried that I will return to piles of poop and lakes of pee on the floor.

Yep, things were looking pretty good for a Monday. Until I arrived at Starbucks, where the "B" team was running the show (and, when I say "B" team, I'm being generous). The incurably inept young man at the register was struggling to figure out how to put money on a gift card while his colleagues behind the bar seemed oblivious to the long line of customers forming. I felt a pang of momentary optimism when one of the young women came and took my order, particularly since I had my exact change ready and would, theoretically, not have to wait for the register to become free.

But the timely arrival of my grande coffee was not meant to be, as the young man struggling with the gift card sought assistance from the young woman who had been pouring my coffee. There sat my filled cup, all ready to work its magic on my sleepy bones, while the young woman tried to help the incurably inept young man. I could see it, sitting there on the counter, a thin wisp of steam escaping from the sipping hole in the lid. But the two barristas were oblivious to my plight, refusing to glance my way to notice how my blood was beginning to boil.

I waved my two dollars and eleven cents in front of their blank faces, I even announced that I was about to tender it. Nothing. The gift card continued to elude filling, and my tantalizing brew continued to steam, out of reach, as I percolated. And things had been looking so promising.

No matter how much you prepare, nobody is ever ready for the extreme hardships life tosses our way.