Yesterday was a disspirting day. It began with a long wait for the Mold Man, who was delayed for several hours because so many roads were flooded and parkways closed. When he came, the news was not good. He won't have the toxicology reports on our basement for a few days, but when he had me come down there to talk about his assessment, he made me wear a mask. He has told me to seal off the area and avoid going down there. It was so bad he also tested for mold spores upstairs.
This was followed by a lengthy conversation with the insurance company. Sigh. No one has flood insurance these days, and mold is an entirely different problem, not covered because the words "pollution exclusion" are written into almost every policy. There may be a small amount of hope, for technical reasons I won't go into here, but whatever money is available won't begin to cover the abatement.
I got a little work done in the late afternoon, and then went out in the evening to see "The Help" with my friend Helen. It was still raining when we got out, and pitch black, and as I was walking across the parking lot, my foot caught in a large, rain-filled pothole and I went sprawling down onto the asphalt. It didn't look like the woman in this illustration, because I fell face down.
OW! My knee is a mess, my hands hurt, my shoulder hurts, and whine, whine, whine. I don't live in Iraq, Afghanistan or Somalia or any other dangerous place, no one in my family has a bad diagnosis, etc., etc., but I am feeling very beleagured this morning. I have to drive up to Massachusetts later today for a series of meetings at my former college, and before that I am being interivewed by Parents Magazine. I hope I can pull myself together and sound interesting and upbeat. Big girls don't cry.