The loathsome part of my job is the paperwork. I don’t know what is more odious: th ‘prior authorization’ forms or the‘leave of absence’ paperwork. Both are nasty. In some previous lifetime I must have died under torture because when I am presented with anyone demanding information from me my defense mechanism is to shut up or to tell outrageous tall tales. In order to avoid a meltdown my brain instinctively blows a fuse so I temporarily forget even basic items such as the fax machine number. It’s worse if I am cornered by a telemarketer. Survey questions such as “Are you in favor of legalizing gay marriage?” usually evokes in me the terse reply “None of your damn business”.
The topic of lunacy has been much on my mind lately, not merely because of my profession but because I sense I am beginning to become unraveled myself. It occurred to me whether or not living in Arizona is what makes the locals barking mad. A friend who recently moved from Utah tells me he is amazed how nasty the people are here.
In general it is hard to have a conversation nowadays. It is only afterwards I think of the really good things I could have said. My one success with perfect timing was at a party once when Someone mentioned he was going to California on a business trip . Some queen replied ‘Oh! I want go with you!”, and then glanced at me and added “Oh, but I guess you wouldn’t like that, would you?” I replied “Pishposh, I wouldn’t mind a bit but he would hate it. Whenever I am feeling sad I merely have to recall this and invariably I cheer up.