So I was doing my taxes, so close to that coming relief at being done–when the program choked and crashed the computer and when I rebooted, everything was gone. But I’d…hit…save….!
My macular distortion from a small tear at the back of each eye is such that focusing intensely on tiny objects like a line of numbers on a page makes them squiggly, as if someone had crumpled up a paper and not smoothed it back out yet.
Oh well. I reentered the whole thing (it did go a lot faster the second time) but with Richard home now, backing me up on reading those numbers correctly as I typed. I think this time I did manage to save most of it to the program itself before I hit that same endless spinning “Calculating…” He looked it over and went, Huh.
Tomorrow (she said, trying to tamp down the aggravation) I tackle it again. Fresh eyes.
And then I thought of the day’s news from Brussels and wondered what on earth I had to complain about. One of the Americans who was injured was a Mormon missionary from Utah who could easily be a distant cousin with that name Wells, not that it matters: every good person who aches deeply at such terrible things done to the innocent–we belong to each other from everywhere around the world no matter who we are or where we come from. We want to be the caring arms right there in person reaching out to those who are hurt, to somehow make it better by our sheer presence and will. If only.
Acts of terror only bring that love out into the open. We will always be more powerful.