We had a scary and emotionally-painful plumber experience yesterday - the kind I don't really like to talk about until it's fixed and then becomes a good story. And then - I'm not lying - he grabbed his sledge hammer ...
So, hopefully one of us will tell this great story tomorrow, after the boss plumber comes here, surveys, assesses and fixes the damage. There was no sledge hammer, but there were gross incompetence, criminal inexperience, and power tools.
I had a lovely half-hour conversation with a homeless man today. He was ever-so-slightly delusional, but smart, well-informed, and pleasant. After a brief opening line about the food pantry he'd just visited, he asked me what my passion was. Who asks a stranger that? And, why aren't we all asking?