A moment of silence, please. One more. That’s better; thanks. I had a day yesterday that made whooshing sounds rush through me ears.

When I was clerking during law school, one of the attorneys, John, told me that early on in his career he’d met with a client who told John his “tale of woe.” As the client got to the end, John thought to himself, “man, you need an attorney! . . . Doh! That’s why you are telling me! I’m the guy you need to fix this. Ugh.” He told me this still happened to him from time to time and would happen to me, too. I hate that he was right. That moment hits me infrequently and it hit Monday night. And it never ceases to suck. Most legal issues I can help with–whether it’s in my field or in the field of another attorney I work with that I can bring in to take over. But occasionally I get that call from someone that knows nowhere else to turn but to me and who truly, desperately needs legal advice in the form of which I am ill prepared to give. This time, it resulted in me spending the better part of yesterday doing what I could to get my guy to the right person he needed for help and listening to the sad details of his “tale of woe.” It is very hard for me to have someone I know and respect ask for help and me be unable to do so. The whole thing has left me edgy and raw and consumed.

And as the world as my guy knew it was crumbling, he remembered to ask me how my early morning appointment with the chiropractor went. I had forgotten I’d even gone–this small detail highlighting the normalness and non-crumbliness of my own world–and here he was checking on me. That’s tough stuff.

So my message today is: rejoice in the quiet peace that life gives you from time to time. You never know when you are gonna need to stuff your ears with cotton just to hear yourself think again.