Today the option of having stayed home and quietly drowned in the surge when the 17th Street Canal levee broke seems rather more attractive than it should. I don't remember if it was Charlie Brown or Linus who said the secret to a happy life is having three things to look forward to and nothing to dread. Lately I can't seem to think of a single thing to look forward to, and I dread everything in our future. Or maybe it's just the prospect of a long Sunday in semirural Mississippi. I have grown very dependent on city life, even that of a backwater banana republic masquerading as a city. The other night about 11:30 PM, it suddenly hit me that nothing was open, no life was stirring anywhere, for about sixty miles. Not so much as a 24-hour Walgreen's. I'd have to drive an hour if I wanted a candy bar. I didn't even want a candy bar, I hardly ever want a candy bar, but I want the reassurance of knowing I can have one at any time of the day or night. Anyway, I got the horrors and sat in my mother's old rocking chair muttering, "Nothing's open. Nothing's open. Let's just get in the car and drive to Chicago." The absurdity of this was only exacerbated by the fact that we didn't have a car.

Sundays here are the same way. Last week wasn't so bad, because everything was still in turmoil. Now the little town is back to normal and I find myself appalled by its version of normalcy. Sure, you can never buy a drink or a great meal or a non-Christian book here, but at least during the week there's something. Today EVERYTHING IS CLOSED. I had volunteered to cook dinner tonight, but I'd have to drive an hour to get the groceries.

People in various wonderful cities have offered to open their homes to us, and I'm aware that we might be able to qualify for a hotel voucher elsewhere, but we can't just dump the cats on my mom for some indefinite period. Anyway, there's too much we have to deal with here ("here" meaning "as near New Orleans as possible"). Maybe if we're still here in a couple of weeks, we'll think of taking a short vacation, but for now we are stuck in Bibleland like a pair of dinosaurs in tar.