I heard from Cardiff University's financial aid department today; the bloke there was immensely helpful in talking me off the ledge. He sent me an e-mail that in its essence went like this: "Well, you should do these five things. But, you know, I can make it magically work without an element here or there because the Welsh are nice like that."
Actually, he didn't applaud himself or the Welsh in any way, but my mind added that because his helpfulness is so contrary to every other experience I've had with university administrative types.
It adds to this terrifying sense I have that the universe is cooperating. Jenny the other day was talking about trying not to think about things that you want for fear that somehow even thinking about them will cause them to go horribly pear-shaped. I feel some of that when thinking about all these goofy heavy things like life and what the hell I want to do with it.
When I do think about it, I get even more nervous in thinking about the "how" of it all. Often in my life, things seem to have fallen together in the most tremulous of ways. I feel at times as if I am living on the edge on one of those cartoon bridges that Daffy Duck would build by hammering a plank of wood onto another. I have these ridiculous hopes and I am inching toward them on a bridge of popsicle sticks and Elmer's glue. And when I stop to look at things, I think: "This is ripe for disaster, man."
Also, thanks for the advice, Eilís and Tuckmac. I may still name my first child Lucy, though -- €10 is $12.16.
Today someone sent me a story for which the headline was: "Man Shot Outside Barbershop."
When you think about it, that headline could be used for any shooting anywhere, as long as it didn't take place in a barbershop.
"I said, 'What are you crying about?' He said, 'Daddy, I was a Jew today.'"
It's not the booze, apparently -- college girls are just whores naturally.