Yesterday, I was embroiled in a slight controversy, involving someone who said that she thought that I was trying to push her out of a job, when I thought that I had been helping her. So much for the good intentions; they paved a one-way street to all-day minor-drama hell. It all worked out; emails and texts were exchanged, and a long, emotional phone call put everything right.
I think it did, anyway. The other person said that she felt much better, and everyone else involved seemed relieved and satisfied at the resolution. And I guess, after I washed off the tire tracks and then removed the clothespins that were holding me on to the clothesline where I had hung out to dry for a bit, that I felt better, too. There's really no particular reason why I'd feel compelled to write about it in a veiled and mysterious manner the next day. It's not like my feelings were hurt or anything.
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