I got a phone call from a rabbi for work today who managed to insult my professional judgment three times, called me a bad Jew, proceeded to bend my ear for half an hour and then got insulted and hung up on me when I said to him, “I’m very sorry to interrupt, sir, but I have to go or I’ll be late for Minchah.” This is someone I have always been patient, helpful and cheerful to on the phone. Gah. I hate praying when I’m pissed at someone: I have to let go of the anger, despite wanting to seethe, because it feels really inappropriate to try connecting with God when you really want to strangle someone.
On the other hand, I had a really great weekend with Sam, and I’m trying to hold onto that instead of what just happened. He cooked me delicious Indian food, addicted me to Dr. Who, allowed me to addict him to Firefly, and we went to the Met together. I got to introduce him to the American wing, which was great because he was thrilled by the still lives, which he’d never seen. In return, he showed me the Assyrian wing, which was really incredible. Lovely, lovely weekend.