My living room has been invaded by giant blue snails. Because of the flood.
My books, for the first time in my life, were actually up off the floor. However, the dozens of crates of magazines and articles for my research sitting right in front of this weren’t. Major moving problem, to make room for the blue snails.
But the joy didn’t stop there. A phone call informed me that an old friend is dying of a brain tumor, and is only expected to live anywhere from two weeks to two months longer. I suppose it’s a relief of sorts. She’s suffered from breast cancer (including a double-mastectomy) for the last couple of years.
In grant writing class tonight, someone was looking for a problem statement for their cause (breast cancer). I suggested that hospice care might be a good problem. My friend has been living in her sister’s garage throughout most of this indignity. You see, if you’re terminal in the US, and you don’t have health insurance, they just send you home to die. Even if you don’t have one.
It’s been a really perverse day.