Of course, there was the requisite meltdown over the weekend, when even more bad things happened in this case, but that's another story.
I found myself very annoyed yesterday when listening to parents bickering in court over basketball and child support. Seriously? This is your emergency?
My mom frets that this job will make me hard. Maybe it has made me less trusting, but I don't know about hard. I don't think that comparing different emergencies against each other, and deciding that one most certainly trumps the other makes me hard or uncaring. It just means I've got a whole new perspective. One I never wanted, but I have now.
The case file is sitting open on my desk in my office. I can't quite bring myself to close it and put it away in the file cabinet. It's like admitting defeat. I also have all the new paperwork from this disaster sitting in there, loose. Every time I pull out the hole punch, I hesitate.
What's even more depressing than the death itself is the aftermath. The fighting, the police calling, the jurisdictional quagmire between limbo, and two counties, and a surprisingly undefined state of law.
Each new thing that seems to happen every day with this case is like a pinprick, but not from any small sewing needle. More like a nail that was in a 2X4.
So, perspective. It's handy. But I think that being just a little bit harder than I am would be helpful too. I can't not sleep at night. I need to put it away, close it in the file cabinet, and turn off the light.