stomach is a pool of acid

This morning I spent 1.5 hours on the phone changing my XX Airlines ticket.

Peter and I have vouchers left over from last year when we decided not to go to Paris for Thanksgiving because his family was worried about the riots. The XX agent told us we had a year to rebook, but when Peter called last month, he was told it's actually only 90 days. He called their customer service over and over, and filed complaints, and emails, and they just refused adamantly.

So this morning I was dreading making the call to use this ticket for my Brian-hosted Egypt trip this fall. Indeed the agent told me the same problem with the 90 days, and I made my plea plaintively!

Then I was put on hold for an hour while she went to find supervisors.

At last it is done. They issued waivers and allowed me to use the ticket.

But my stomach is a big pool of acidic stress. If you dipped a rod of iron in my stomach juices right now, it would just melt.