I must have sighed. I know I slumped against the elevator wall. A very nice colleague said “Are you having a day?”
I could grumph about how it was snowing, again this morning, or that my trousers were loose in the waist and to tight through the seat, or that my mother’s second cataract surgery was canceled and she can’t find a new place to live, or that Mr. Spit ate the last granola bar, leaving me nothing for breakfast (except for all of the other things I could have taken).
It was just a day. The morning was not so bad, but the afternoon arrived with a crash and clang and a crises.
Anyway, I was sighing in the elevator and Isabelle looked at me and said “let it pass. It only gets worse if you fight it.”
As it turns out, she’s entirely correct.