Welcome to anger. It is the second stage in the five stages of grief. I have mastered it. Ask my family. Ask the poor woman who sweetly called me to tell me my plumbing issue is now scheduled for Saturday morning. Except it was supposed to have been done yesterday. Then it was to be done tomorrow and I rearranged my life to have it done tomorrow. She probably thinks I am a true delight.
I naively expected I would never hit anger, only because I am not angry (mostly) at Reader Number Two for dying. I am angry at the world and I can't call her to tell her this. She will never again be able to talk me down when I am upset. And that just pisses me off.
Of course, if you ask me tonight, I will tell you I invented grief. Nobody grieves as well as I do. I equate this to the new parent who thinks they invented parenthood (all parents do this). I am the foremost expert on grief, because I invented it, damnit.
A friend tells me that grief comes in waves. Today has been a tsunami. And that makes me mad too.
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