Image by The Library of Congress via Flickr
Otherwise, it's just wear and tear. Let me use a baseball metaphor. I'm the catcher -- the hitless wonder -- who has come in to catch the knuckle-baller. There are a lot of bad hops, but I'm getting my body in front of them and taking them off the torso, the arms, the mask. I believe I am developing a case of cumulative woe.
And it's too hot, and I'm not sleeping, and I'm trying to keep up with email, but I'm going to come back home 10 days behind in grading. Also, I have no idea it will take to sell this damn house -- which we will need to do because of the reverse mortgage we got in Mom's name -- and we'll have to pay all the incidentals to maintain the house, and that includes paying a sister to stay in it. We could rent, of course, but wouldn't it be quicker just to blow it up ourselves?
A slow day in a hot and humid place.
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