Though I'm closer to wrong, I'm no further from right.
Somehow, I managed to spent the entire weekend in the exclusive company of friends of Bill's. A rendezvous with a new friend in East Flatbush, then, today, ambushing an old friend and buddy from New Haven, who had brought some of his network with him and who corralled me into a raucous, expansive dinner afterwards. In the middle of all of that, somewhere in between, slow-burning calamity continued at home and several of the adults, against my advice (as though I were the truly knowledgable one here), are 'rescuing' a frustratingly dear person from an adverse situation, which, I fear, will serve only to enable his voluntary reentry into a similar or identical situation or worse. There's a program in place and some of my concerns are mitigated, but the continuing saga, bookended as it was today by these two glorious episodes in my personal journey, seem to be driving home the point that, this year at least, there cease to be good days and bad days. Merely days. One, then another. Then, Lord willing, another.