I was supposed to go over to the condo with my husband – but I just…can’t. It was partially destroyed when a roof leak in the building created a lake of sorts in the ceiling above us that came crashing down, dumping hundreds of gallons of water into our home, bringing with it all kinds of old insulation, mold spores and rodent feces. That was in mid-March. It is now early June. We are living in a hotel – a home for the homeless.
What a baby-huh? I feel as if I am getting divorced again – the house all in shambles, like I have seen it before…scattered pieces of my life thrown hither and yon. The fact that it feels like no one that is “in power” cares really hurts – just like in a divorce or any tragedy – you reach out for help and get doors slammed in your face, backs are turned, telephones not answered. I hope that those folks enjoyed ruining 3 months of my life with my husband and bringing us dangerously close to disasters unspeakable. All I can say is that if this happened in Mystic, Connecticut – or Windsor, Virginia – our place would have been fixed – we would have been given a place to stay – people would not have let us suffer this long.
This would make a great play – three acts – each act occurring in a different part of the US.
What does it matter anyway – I am just one of 6.75 billion humans on planet fit for 3 billion.
And attitudes are beginning to reflect that very fact.
What does ONE matter?

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