This will probably be one of the first 4ths of July in recent history where there will be scant, if any, fireworks celebrations and parades. If they do go on, people are encouraged to participate from their cars, or watch from the safety of their homes. Health officials are definitely discouraging folks from flocking to the beaches and attending large gatherings or picnics, as they would normally do. With so much unrest and anger flying around, in Washington and one’s own neighborhood, one may become overwhelmingly frustrated. The pandemic numbers are soaring in our country every day, without an end in sight. How can we come together and feel celebratory, if even in a tiny group? How can we remind ourselves to feel grateful for what we do have?
This was put into stark, literal perspective for me when my ceiling came crashing down this week. No, I’m not kidding. I suppose it’s apropos that if my world was really going to start to crumble, it would choose to do so in 2020. I mean, why not, right? It started with a crack that quickly grew overhead in our kitchen. Now mind you, the building is older, so this wasn’t really anything new. But the severity of the split was quickly growing. So much so, that in a matter of days, it had started to separate and hang slightly from the ceiling. We pointed it out to our landlord, who agreed to start pricing out some plasterers.
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