Dogs Of Chaos

 

There are days and then there are days you wish you could live without.

I’d been at work less than an hour when things began to go downhill and I could feel chaos nipping at my heels like a pack of wild dogs. It was already nearly 90 inside and the humidity was like a sauna. The animals were restless and underfoot, snapping at each other and picking fights. There was no Sweet’n’Low for Michael’s coffee and having slept badly, he was already in a temper when the ADD/HDD commenced and he couldn’t find any of his diabetic testing supplies. He began a frantic search of his landfill of a desk, snatching up piles of paper and empty cigarette packs, notes scribbled on matchbook covers, half full coke cans, assorted cables and wires, unopened mail with sticky notes attached, samples of cologne, unpaid bills, and the ever present clear makeup case of several dozen prescription bottles. Manilla folders went flying, a new pair of shoes tumbled into the trashcan next to the desk, packing material and cellophane wrappers from God knew what were swept to the floor. Somewhere under this mountain of debris, his cell phone began ringing and he let loose a stream of colorful cursing. In the midst of all this mayhem, there was a knock on the door and the dogs erupted savagely and made a charge for the front office. They hit the door en masse, a snarling tangle of howling hounds with saliva dripping jaws and mad eyes and the startled UPS driver dropped his armful of packages and fled. I could now feel the chaos like canine teeth gnawing at my ankles and I envied him his freedom.

“ENOUGH!” I screeched like a fishwife and slammed my fist onto my desk, “GET THE HELL AWAY FROM THAT DOOR AND CARRY YOUR SORRY, FLEA BITTEN BUTTS OUTSIDE BEFORE I BEAT YOU SENSELESS!” And amazingly enough, perhaps sensing that an invisible line had been crossed, they did. Which left me free to deal with Michael.

“STOP!” I shouted at him, “SIT!”

He looked at me, wild eyed and frenzied, then dropped the fistfuls of trash he was clutching and dropped to his chair. He looked undone and defeated and very angry, exactly the way I was feeling, but someone in this house had to be an adult, I reminded myself. Clearly, it wasn’t to be Michael or the damn dogs. I forced myself to take a breath and chaos relaxed its grip just a fraction. My rule has always been that this madness stops at the door of my office. I can’t change what he is or how he is but I don’t have to be sucked under and drown along with him.

As usual, we got past it and things settled down. Keeping the chaos at bay is becoming a full time job.