These three or four preternaturally warm days arrived just in time. The wind tempered. For graces received. It was beginning to be a bit difficult to stand up and walk. #draw...your...sword #princessbride
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At the same time, I'm reasonably certain that I must decamp abroad soon, or else. Not the hysteria of a moment -- I've been dealing with this level of inexplicable adversity for more than a decade now, and I'm inclined to trust my judgment in distinguishing trade winds from the edges of a distant storm.
Not really a discretionary calculus; income has been highly attenuated for several years now, and being able to have, for extended periods of time, a life that isn't inherently destructive of body and mind becomes increasingly important over the long haul.
Among the frothy lives of the prosperous middle class here, individuals' situations such as mine don't even register, except as a salutary warning not to challenge the prevailing corruption. But if there is a way to find a minimally sufficient life that will allow me to do the honest work of the mind and implicitly testify against such things, it is incumbent on me to find it. Being attacked by robbers in the road doesn't release the crusader from his vow.
Most people would describe the situation as a bit desperate, and would be at their wits end, willing to make any deal necessary to extricate themselves from being the focus of such things. But I'm sort of taking the very long view, and merely cabling objective descriptions of the situation back to the Home Office, keeping to the Officers Mess, and occasionally whistling "Men of Harlech" as I scan the horizon for puffs of smoke.
In short, "It's 106 miles to Chicago, we've got a full tank of gas, half a pack of cigarettes, it's dark, and we're wearing sunglasses. Hit it."