Yes, Wilbur's having a bad day in this passage. He's just moved to the Zuckerman farm. Fern hasn't come to visit him. It's raining. None of the other animals will play with him. And Lurvy forces sulphur and molasses down his throat. For a pig, that's the definition of a pretty crappy day.
I have had a pretty crappy night. I was stuck at the dance studio for almost two hours because of a flat tire. My wife was on her way to parent-teacher conferences when she discovered the problem. So she took my car to the conferences while I waited for roadside assistance to show up.
Earlier in the day, my wife tried to wash some dishes in the kitchen sink and discovered that our water had been turned off. We've been making payments on our water bill, but, through some miscommunication, the city workers were instructed to disconnect our service. Our water is back on, but we have to somehow come up with the funds to pay in full or the city workers will be paying us another visit very soon.
My car needs major repairs. Ditto my wife's Subaru. Tomorrow, my wife is taking her tire to a garage to see if it's fixable. If not, we're going to have to buy a new one. That will be another hundred-plus dollars. And then there's my daughter's braces.
I won't say it's been the worst day of my life. Nobody's tried to force feed me sulphur and molasses. But I am feeling quite overwhelmed, like I'm at the bottom of a well, looking up at the moon, trying to figure out how to reach it.
I'll feel better tomorrow morning. Tomorrow afternoon will be even better. These moments of financial panic pass like solar eclipses. There's darkness for a little while, and then the sun returns.
Right now, Saint Marty is still waiting for a little light.
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| Anybody got a telescope? |
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