Today was an interesting day. I checked my email around 5am. There was a scathing accusal from one of my co-workers. Clearly a case of misunderstanding, although I found it insulting and patronizing. This began to irritate me. We work extremely hard at Meetup with a minimal staff, especially in my department. We have had our staff cut by more than half in recent weeks leaving me with a staff of 2. In any event, aside from feeling overwhelmed by not being able to begin working at home when I had planned I am having to fight battles of perception.

So after packing 5 lunches, rushing 4 children out to school, doing 2 loads of laundry and washing the dishes, I shower and dress. I rush to the bus at 7:15, I board. I sit with my laptop and write, listening to Jeff Buckley's “Grace” (before the Nick Drakes of the world, we had Jeff Buckley) I finish my writing outside the Lincoln Tunnel and begin packing up. I feel into the front pocket of my backpack to find my wallet missing.

In my anger, going over and over my words in my head….I left my purse in my car at the bus station! No Metro-Card. No Cash, No Credit Cards. I am in NYC with nothing.
I call my boss and tell him I will be late and I begin my dissent to Greenwich Village from Port Authority.

It was a beautiful day today, so the 45 or more block walk really wasn't so terrible. In fact I discovered a really awesome farmer's market in Union Square. My only regret was not having my camera with me. I'd like to take this walk again sometime soon.

It turned out well. Matt lent me 20 dollars and Hailey bought me flowers to ease the pain of my morning, telling me Im the coolest person in the office. While I don't agree, I appreciate her telling me so.

The moral of this story is probably buried in Aesop's Fables but for me it always goes back to Instant Karma. My karma has been corrected to the point that if I have bad thoughts, even…I am instantly reprimanded. Which is a good thing.

People wonder how I handle all that I do. Its not sweating the small stuff and remembering its all small stuff. I don't need vain glory. I don't need to be “right” all the time. Knowing my gut and going with it is how I like to live. Sometimes I don't need to “get it” Like, I try to understand how Bernie lived through his marriage, I try to imagine what his late wife was like. I try to piece together from words and pictures. It cannot be done and maybe I don't need to know.