My therapist has definitely had some terrible, horrible no good days.

One day I saw him getting out of this ratty old car and rushing into his office. When I walked in he was in the restroom and he came out drying and sniffing his hands. The whole session smelled of gasoline. Poor guy.

Another day I walked into his waiting room and the fire inspectors were there citing him for his use of extension cords on carpet etc....

Still yet another time, there was construction work going on in the office next to his and there was this banging and sawing right on the other side of his wall. Just before my session I heard him over there complaining about how he couldn't even talk on the phone with all the racket. He came into the waiting room, shrugged his shoulders and sighed. We communicated largely through hand signals in that session, but spent most of it laughing as the construction workers cursed.

And, just very recently, I came into session and his expensive, outrageously gorgeous leather couch had scratch marks all over it. I asked him if there had been a cat fight on his couch and he just sighed and said, "that's not going to be easy to fix at all".

Bless his little heart. It happens to the best of us.