My Sense-Making Ratio
Lots of phone calls from insurance people today. The property insurance company of the bookstore where I fell, worker’s compensation ... everyone wanted a detailed version of my story. If only the publishing industry was so kind.
Maybe tomorrow I’ll post the story here. The more I tell it, the more the narrative calcifies. It takes on logical beats: This is what I was doing, and this is why. This is where I fell, and this is what happened next.
I haven’t gotten to the moral yet. No deeper meaning that I can discern; just a tangle of unfortunate events.
”I can tell you’re taking pain meds,” my husband said today. “Half the things you say don’t make any sense.”
A generous assessment.