Drusy is curled up on my lap, explaining everything that boy in her French class said in the lunch room – either that or I’m confused about the fall hemlines and why five people in my office turned up in purple shirts today. Turns out I’m sensitive to chemicals in paint the construction guys are using in an office immediately adjacent to mine and several times in the last month I’ve spent whole days unable to count how many fingers I was holding up. Still, I thought they were finished. That site was opening up today. Just after noon, I realized I’d been reading the same paragraph for half an hour, so I went and looked. Sure enough, one of the painters was pouring paint just on the other side of the wall.

Then I was happy because at least I was stooopid for a reason. Reason, however, fails these people altogether.