Where Exactly Am I?

Philadelphia

At three a.m. this morning, I admired the full-out moonglow on my yard creating shadows of crooked limbs and branches. This is the third full moon of the new year. And I have seen every one. But this is the first one I've seen in my own country. January's sighting was in Ho Chi Minh City. February's full moon bathed my little Bangkok apartment with soft white light.

As I swim upstream trying to adjust to night being day and day being night, I am reminded of how vulnerable our minds and bodies are to change. Physiologically, the entire endocrine system goes on red alert when you fiddle around with sleep cycles. No REM, or interrupted REM sleep, means that errors are frequent, decisions suspect. In the research that changed forever the shift work practice of rotating people between days, evenings and nights, the findings were conclusive that it took a solid month for the body's circadian rythyms, the body's alarm clock, to stabilize with rotation of shifts. And anyone who has worked in a hospital and seen a resident after being on duty 24 hours knows to check any chart he or she has reviewed or written orders for.

Slowly, I putter around the house moving piles of papers. Tax data, bills, mail, correspondence.

And then the screw ups, misunderstandings, the folks who didn't get the memo about my absence. The best one--the propane company topped off my propane tank that fuels my fireplace. They left a bill in the door in January. In February, they sent a bill. Two nights ago, I flipped the switch on the fireplace expecting the "whoosh" sound as the pilot ignites the gas cylinder. No "Whoosh". Nothing but darkness. No pilot, I noticed. So, I called my dear neighbor who came over presumably to light the pilot. After fiddling with it for five minutes, and expending many matches, he suggested we go check the tank to see if it was empty. The tank wasn't empty.

The tank was gone. They had taken the tank. TAKEN THE TANK!

Who could make this stuff up? The next morning I called County Propane and inquired as to where my tank was? " You didn't pay your bill, ma'am, and that's our policy."

After 10 frustrating minutes of pointing out facts such as: 1. no one called first; 2. I had been a customer for ten years with an excellent payment record. 3. I needed it replaced immediately. And the answer at the other end of the line: "I'll see what the manager says. He doesn't like people, so he won't talk to you. And it's our policy that once the tank is taken, we don't bring it back under any circumstance."

OK. OK. I"m thinking to myself, this is a test. Have I got a Buddhist bone in my body after the experience of the past months? Or am I back to my Western ways?

I told Gary, the messenger on the other end of the telephone, to check with the anti-social boss, Norm, and get back to me in one hour. If I didn't hear from him in that timeframe, I would make other arrangements. And ended with: " Does Norm know that this country, and every extant business in it, is in very serious financial peril? And does he know that he is turning away a customer with a ten year history of excellent payments?"

Just a little distraction, this little pain in the neck, I keep reminding my weary mind. But the sun is shining, and I'm not having to fight falling asleep at noon like previous days, so life is good.

But ... adaptation is hell!
MC