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The ocean wind cold on our lips
Earlier this year I learned that George VI had to be talked out of personally showing up for D-Day, a brilliantly medieval conceit of which he was fortunately disabused before he could challenge Richard III's record for last English king to die in battle.
If it turns out that anyone did the same for the plumber for whose sake I got up on forty-five minutes of sleep to escape the house before he pulled out our bathroom ceiling as scheduled, someone is going to get buried under a car park.
ETA: The plumbers did arrive and spent several hours dismantling a chunk of the ceiling, so I feel justified in my flight, but also exhausted. It is far from clear when our ceiling will be remantled.
If it turns out that anyone did the same for the plumber for whose sake I got up on forty-five minutes of sleep to escape the house before he pulled out our bathroom ceiling as scheduled, someone is going to get buried under a car park.
ETA: The plumbers did arrive and spent several hours dismantling a chunk of the ceiling, so I feel justified in my flight, but also exhausted. It is far from clear when our ceiling will be remantled.
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From the Department of Mythically I See Your Point, Logistically We Just Had a Succession Crisis!
Relatedly, on the EXTREME off-chance that this hasn't already crossed your dash: The New Yorker D-Day Issue
It hadn't, actually! Thank you. Wow.
Anyway, I continue to be sorry to hear about No Sleep.
Thank you. It's just been a horrible week.