“Free Speech is the right to yell ‘Theater!’ in a crowded fire.”
Barely averted disasters, not quite problems, almost, practically, nearly, verging, uncomfortably close. Yesterday I was right next to the mild downtown explosion, but managed to just miss nasty smoke inhalation; the resulting massive power failure kindly skipped the corner with my building, leaving us with power but no internet, so basically a blank day paid; the heavy wing-backed chair that dropped on David at work didn’t break his arm, (he’s hurt badly enough that he gets a paid day off work, but not so badly that he isn’t glad about it); and we lucked out and managed to rescue Ray’s vehicle, which was accidentally locked into a closed parking lot while we sat in the ER waiting room for three hours.
There seemed to be a downward spiral.
But then there was ice-cream and a Vincent Price film, The Last Man On Earth, (which is what I am Legend should have been), I got a message that my camera should be fixed by the weekend, and we gave Ray a DVD box-set of Bela Lugosi films and a cute stuffed bunny with floppy long ears, so yesterday was alright after all.
A white pebble day, by any account.