Miss Sasha, Mr. Sasha and the little Sashas arrived safely at home yesterday, in time to contract pinkeye today. Fortunately for me, that’s happening over a thousand miles from the library where I put on lipstick – much to the shock of my co-workers – and posed for pictures. The anti-hunger project is just about complete. Workers will take away the labeled boxes on Thursday. Today, I tossed canned goods while someone else counted and we stacked them until we could toss, count and stack no more; after work, I fell into a dreamy nap, in which I dreamed I was being nice to people and from which I awoke in a cold sweat. Recently, a person I trust and respect scoffed at the unnamed university’s anti-hunger project.

Circe: Can you believe it? A canned goods drive! That does nothing to solve the underlying problems.
Me: It solves two problems: what will these families eat, wash and brush with for a month or so and what presents will these homeless kids get for their gift-giving holiday, but you’re right. Nothing changes.

This is the work I can do within the framework the unnamed university offers me and I can totally rock it, but nothing changes. Is that enough?