Eleven (at last count) phone calls about the house I'm living in (that's up for sale, see previous whine/post), two conference calls in the car with my barking dog in the back seat (have to vacate when the agent needs to show the house, see previous whine/post), and a phone interview in aforementioned car with aforementioned barking dog later, I came home for a little silent prayer time.
After which, I decided to call the listing agent myself to call a truce and hopefully and peacefully lay down some guidelines, but was put on hold. The recording was a meditation tape. Telling me to breathe. To close my eyes. Inhale. Hold. Count. Exhale. Slowly. Relax. Picture yourself on the beach. Hear the waves. Feel the breeze.
That God.
I did eventually have to talk to the agent's voicemail, which, after my typical two to three hours of obsession, pissed me off again tonight, because, as usual, I received no response.
But I get it, God. Women in Ethiopia. Rwanda. Darfur. Afghanistan. Iraq. Katrina. Bigger pictures. Mind off self. Gratitude. Faith.
I donated what I could to an online charity, apologized to the Universe, and went back to my happy place:
