Yesterday was truly a study in contrasts.

I woke at 4:30 a.m., wrote the last of my Christmas cards, packed up some orders, did some dishes and a load of laundry, made my lunch, ate breakfast and gave the washroom a whip-through after covering it in long mahogany strands with the hair dryer. I got to work early enough to set up my desk to my satisfaction and the line for coffee at Timmy�s was manageable. Everything was shaping up to provide me with an excellent day.

Then the phone calls and emails started rolling in.

My sister was taken to the ER, spending the next three and a half hours receiving a number of enemas, since she was clinically impacted. Now, before last night�s discussion with my Mom, I only knew what an impacted tooth was. I wish I could turn the clock back to that na�ve time, seriously. And, because I didn�t collect my cell phone messages in time, I missed out on getting to pick Kate up from school and have her to our place for dinner. Damn you, school building made of gobs of concrete and rebar! Damn you and your stinky reception!

Then I got the email you read about yesterday. I�m still trying to process it, although I am content in a few of my opinions surrounding that whole debacle. First, neither side made any wholehearted attempts at building a solid foundation to work from. Secondly, when he asked her to move in and she said yes and he rearranged his entire life to accommodate her, then she balked at the absolute last minute but fully expected their existing relationship to continue along, unblemished? I SO would have shown her the fucking door. This is college all over again, and he just takes it. Like a fucking doormat. Then wants sympathy. Pffft.

Lastly, you might at this point be thinking I�m a touch too angry about this to simply be an objective observer. You would be correct. However, I�ve gone to great lengths not to let any feelings I may or may not have about either party creep into the mix.

Because objectivity? It�s your best friend when you�re trying to be the person who desperately wants to say, �I told you so!�

I won�t, though. Well, maybe when we�re 80, I�ll make some vague reference to this mess. Only I�ll make sure his hearing aid is turned down at the time.

Posted at 9:31 a.m.