Slartibartfast's study was a total mess, like the results of an explosion in a public library. The old man frowned as they stepped in.
"Terribly unfortunate," he said, "a diode blew in one of the life-support computers. When we tried to revive our cleaning staff we discovered they'd been dead for nearly thirty thousand years. Who's going to clear away the bodies, that's what I want to know. Look, why don't you sit yourself down over there and let me plug you in."
He gestured Arthur toward a chair which looked as if it had been made out of the rib cage of a stegosaurus.
"It was made out of the rib cage of a stegosaurus," explained the old man as he pottered about fishing bits of wire out from under tottering piles of paper and drawing instruments. "Here," he said, "hold these," and passed a couple of stripped wire ends to Arthur.
The instant he took hold of them a bird flew straight through him.
He was suspended in midair and totally invisible to himself. Beneath him was a pretty tree-lined city square, and all around it as far as the eye could see were white concrete buildings of airy spacious design but somewhat the worse for the wear--many were cracked and stained with rain. Today, however, the sun was shining, a fresh breeze danced lightly through the trees, and the odd sensation that all the buildings were quietly humming was probably caused by the fact that the square and all the streets around it were thronged with cheerful excited people. Somewhere a band was playing, brightly colored flags were fluttering in the breeze and the spirit of carnival was in the air.
Arthur felt extraordinarily lonely stuck up in the air above it all without so much as a body to his name, but before he had time to reflect on this a voice rang out across the square and called for everyone's attention.
Sometimes, I feel as if I'm floating above everything, watching life bustle below me, above me, around me. At the moment, I am listening to my sister plan a two-week trip to Washington state. She's looking at airfare, trying to figure out the cheapest day to fly.
I will never have this problem. I can barely afford my monthly trips to Calumet to perform at the Calumet Theatre. Buying plane tickets to anywhere is an impossibility. We are currently at a zero balance in our checking and savings accounts. My wife's car is probably dead (something about head gaskets), so, tomorrow possibly, we have to go car shopping for a car that we can't really afford. My wife can't get to work otherwise. To top it all off, we have next-to-nothing in our cupboards and refrigerator, and my daughter just texted me to inform me of that fact.
I have reached that time in the summer when I literally have no money. Usually, we barely make it, paycheck-to-paycheck. This summer, we are sinking. Tomorrow, my wife and I are going to our credit union to try to get a short-term loan to get us through August, which is when I start getting paid by the university again. This financial stress has been sort of fueling my wife's hypomania, as well. We have been borrowing and begging money for several weeks, barely treading water.
I'm not sharing this information to make you feel sorry for me. I tell you this information to explain why I'm not writing about the testimony of Robert Mueller before Congress today. I don't have the time or the energy at the moment to worry about much more than how I'm going to be able to feed my kids and pay my bills. Donald Trump and his obstruction of justice are not very close to the surface of my thoughts.
And I have a very close friend who's facing her own personal crisis at the moment. She's one of the most positive people I know, but she is struggling mightily this evening. I know she'll read this post tonight. She reads all my posts. I know what she's going through. Have been there myself. My current problems pale in comparison.
Listen to me, my good friend. You are in my thoughts. As I sit here typing this post, with a statue of the Virgin Mary looking down on me, I'm lifting you up in prayer. I have felt your pain and worry. Please know that you are loved and treasured. You remind me every day that I can be a better person.
I don't know how to end this post. As I said, tomorrow, my wife and I are going to go to the credit union to see about getting a loan to pay our bills, no matter what the interest rate. We might also do some car shopping, depending on the mechanic's final diagnosis on her Subaru. And currently my friend is at home, trying to hold her life together.
Saint Marty wishes for his friend good rest and healing and love. Saint Marty wishes for himself a distant relative with a terminal health condition, a large bank account, and a generous spirit.
