Threes?

As my Avid Fans (both of them) know, Metro and Mme Metro have been waiting to take posession of their new house. But life goes on all around us while we wait in the dank limbo of our rented basement suite. Puts me in mind of the Yonghy-Bonghy-Bo:

On the Coast of Coromandel
Where the early pumpkins blow,
In the middle of the woods
Lived the Yonghy-Bonghy-Bò.
Two old chairs, and half a candle,--
One old jug without a handle,--
These were all his worldly goods:
In the middle of the woods,
These were all the worldly goods,
Of the Yonghy-Bonghy-Bò,
Of the Yonghy-Bonghy-Bò.

From the Edward Lear home page (warning: MIDI)

Some folks believe things come around in threes: good things, bad things, celebity deaths. Of course this leaves one wondering: how to classify? I mean, if George W. Bush had choked to death on his pretzel, which of the above would it have been?

I suppose that depends on one's perspective. If one is strapped to an interrogation table at Guantanamo Bay it might seem totally irrelevant, in the moment.

In our case, having had a long run of good things (it's a boundary question: the new and salubrious location is due to the new and salubrious job, so are they in fact separate good things?) we had a few less-than-thrilling things:

First there was the fuel pump, which my Avid Fans (both of ... what? Oh ... All one of them, then) have heard about. Then it looked like we were going to have to do something unpleasant and expensive to a cat by means of a hired vet. Then Mme and I shared out a nasty cold. So we figured, with things coming in groups, that we should be clear for awhile. Not so.

Last week we were having a beer at a local pub when I began to sneeze and wheeze. Without going into way too much detail let me state that foul secretions were involved. Comparisons with Linda Blair might be invoked. We curtailed our evening and headed home.

Upon examining my face in the mirror it was clear all was not well, as I had to crane my neck to look out around my nose, which was approaching Depardieu-esque proportions. Eventually, having trouble breathing and actually in some pain, I persuaded Mme to take me to emergency.

So here's where it gets tricky to decide where the bad thing ends and the good thing begins: Some of you may recall my rant about the difficulty of finding a GP. Raincoaster suggested consulting with ER nurses. Well while I was getting my sinuses pumped, and being dosed with something I could use a little hit of every day, guess what Mme did?

So out of the most miserable weekend night I've spent without being single and drunk came a good thing. I was able (once I woke from my drugged sleep the following morning) to see the good in it all.

Then last weekend I sprained my back. At time of writing I'm a little strung out on drugs that screw up my concentration enough to interfere with my work yet not enough to completely kill the sensation of having a wooden stake driven into my kidneys.

It may not sound like it, but I'm actually feeling pretty good about life right now. I figure the tradeoff for back pain should be at least a small lottery win.

And the cat is fine.