Things You Can Count On

In this crazy, unpredictable, topsy-turvy life rocks guaranteed to withstand the surging tide of chaos and provide steadfast landmarks to navigate by are hard to come by.

One such granite headland (complete with overcharged lighthouse and wall of air-raid sirens) is this:


Any time you accidentally run into your completely deranged bi-polar mother in law out in the world, like when you're returning stuff to the library, you are guaranteed a visit from your decrepit father in law, who stopped bathing sometime last year. He will ring the doorbell during Fuss' nap, then when you don't answer because you peeked out the window and saw his disintegrating, rusted out jalopy idling at the curb, leave a grocery bag full of expired baked goods from the Thursday food bank handouts on your front porch.


I long ago gave up attempting to decipher the anti-logic of their rat's nest cooexistance, but I still wonder at the labyrinth the golden thread of that particular conversation must navigate to reach its inevitable conclusion.