So there I was, sitting in an internet cafe' trying to extract everything with BSDs slow and alien tar, and trying to get apache running my virtual hosts without either emacs or /sbin/service, and as elfs recently said, Profanity is the last refuge of the inarticulate ****fucker., I was getting pretty inarticulate and needed some verbal refuge. I did keep most of it under my breath, as I was in a public venue.
I failed to get it running, and was late for piano.
And the lesson made me feel like a moron. My teacher didn't, Mister Henry is not like that. But the syncopated rhythms of Béla Bartók just would not come out of my fingers, no matter how harshly we counted them out.
I was so looking forward to a scheduled relaxing hot water soak with SierraK afterwards, and even that was marred. A small frustration with (not) finding something in my jacket just suddenly made me melt down into a stress implosion. I could feel the blood drain out of my head, and my stomach knot and twist, and the mortification of weakness, and I just. could. not. stop. it. Resting on the cool tiles for several minutes calmed most of it away.
I had kind of planned to wire up on RedBull and go back to work, but instead I went directly home and fell right asleep at 9pm.