Sometimes I feel just a little rusty…

…and sometimes despite how neglected I feel, someone gives me a much-needed shot of oil, and I’m back, almost as good as new.

Yesterday was rough for me. In the morning, T was sick, so he planned to stay home, recuperate and open the door for the people from the power company so that we could find out exactly what was wrong our meters and furnace–one of those uber-complicated geothermal heat pumps.

That was rough for him, but when I walked out of the house without a “Happy Birthday,” the day started on a low note.

I was turning 35, I didn’t get a birthday kiss from my favorite man over 2 and my furnace was broken. Oh, and the toilet wasn’t really flushing. There’s very little barring a natural disaster or death that could have been worse in my mind.

I held back tears as one of my wonderful friends stopped to give me a birthday present and wish me a good day in the hall before school started. All of the sudden, despite my true disinterest in the number this day represented, 35 became my entrance into deep, dark old age.

Melodramatic? Yup. That I was.

The day dragged on with me finding that even if we did need an electrician, every single one in the phone book was no longer taking new clients. Clients? Things are getting way too competitive for us poor homeowners around here. I guess the only way to get an electrician is to have a referral from another customer. Oh, ok. Not that I don’t appreciate what they do, but what the hell?

Things got better as one of my students carried a cake into my classroom during my preparation period and her independent study time with me. We had an impromptu party, complete with heart-shaped princess plates, thick slices of cake and milk. In the middle of the whole affair, the school secretary brought in flowers and balloons delivered on behalf of my sisters and then T called with news that he had scheduled a service call for the furnace for today.

Can it get better?

Yup.

My mom and dad took J and I out to dinner right after school and then came to our house and played with J while I talked gloom and doom with my father, which is actually one of my favorite things to do now that he actually takes me seriously.

If that wasn’t enough lubricant for my rusty emotional state, the toilet began to flush the right way and T had spent part of the day cleaning, including floor washing and window cleaning (and running to town to get me a bottle of brandy as a birthday present). I went to bed almost relaxed. Amazing.

And now, despite the fact that the furnace still isn’t fixed and we’ve been given a rough estimate of $1000 for repair, I’m still feeling good…maybe even better.

There’s something about family and friends coming together to support you that makes you realize that no matter how bad you feel, you’ll live through the latest disaster–even though it feels like that just couldn’t be.

And, for me, just having my fears confronted and defined helps…yeah, a thousand-dollar furnace repair bill is going to hurt, but at least I know that we’ll be warm this winter and cool in the summer.