The rain is so thick that none of us are able to leave the house. I spend hours in the basement making piles. The reek of animal is wicked, but I am determined to get this job done. Plus, I can’t sit at the computer another day. I need to move and the rain has made that difficult. I stand while I work, triaging the accumulation of material objects into piles: keep, discard, donate. I do not thank any of these objects before I toss them. I am ungrateful, I suppose.
I come up for lunch and find that Dad has placed himself in front of the television, watching nature shows to assuage his yearning to be out walking the periphery. And Mum has been baking in between tirades about the “Christly weather,” saying, “Will we ever get out again?” and, unkindly, “I can’t wait to see the back end of yo
