Spitting nails

Yesterday afternoon was a bitch. My printer kept cropping off parts of the picture I was printing. One of my digital imaging programs kept freezing and when I tried to save my work, the program would close itself. I had one really damaged photo fixed and lost the whole file.

Then on top of it all, a customer came in to pick up an order that she needed by Friday...and tells me I got the wrong photo ready (She brought in 3)...instead of the photo I had prepared and printed, she needed the other two--both required some light retouching. I showed her the work order, because I wrote it down like she said. Instead of saying, "Oh you're right." She said, "Well, you musta not been listening."

I told her I would have the photos ready by 11 this morn and she left. I haven't seen her yet. She'll probably appear right when I'm leaving.

A few other things happened and I came to the conclusion that even with a new PC system, HP Printers still are the devil.

When I left work...I was so frustrated and irritated that I could have spit nails...enough to build a condo. The drive home usually is only 5 minutes. I get behind Grandma Bluehair and her sister Silver Puff who are talking and sightseeing, while driving 35 mph. Behind me is a prick... we all know it's better to have an asshole in front of you than a prick behind you. He's a young dud in a pimped up car, driving on my bumper. The traffic coming was so solid that I couldn't pass Granny and her Sister. So instead of 5 mins it took almost 10.

I pull into my drive and my sister is there, blocking the path I drive to the shelter I usually park under. I couldn't squeeze by her without running over my azeala bushes. So I had to drive around the block and come in via the path behind the house.

As I walked to the house, I could hear the nephews--loudly. They were either playing or having a fight. Mom and Lisa's voices were just as loud and I thought, "Give me patience to swallow these nails I want to spit out."

In an outdoor chair by the back door was a single red rose surrounded by greenery and baby's breath flowers. It was wrapped in white tissue paper with red roses printed on it. A red ribbon secured the paper. The card simply read "Sherrie" in Al's handwriting. He had left a rose for me.... to find when I got home.

Every irritation, every frustration, every ounce of anger and impatience dissolved into nothingness, as I reached for the rose. I opened the card and it said, "Happy VD. Love, Allen." My heart sang and I stepped inside the kitchen smiling.

Expect nothing and you receive rewards.

I talked to Al later. He laughed at me and said, "I put the rose outside your door last night (Tuesday-V day), to see if you would see it. I was shocked you didn't because, you went outside several times."

"You didn't have to do this, you know. Your visit meant just as much as getting flowers or candy."

He laughed, "I know, baby. Can't believe it took you so long to find it."

"I had a horrible afternoon. When I saw the rose, it evaporated. So I think I found it at the perfect time, sweetie."