There is only one thing that I like

[The rain has been near constant here in San Francisco for the last 72 hours. It formed a background of gray, monotonous hiss as I lay half awake in bed this morning, contemplating waking John for a little reassurance of some medium-level, no doubt Seasonally Affected, sadness. He eventually asked me what was wrong (he's good like that) and held me and told me everything would be OK.]

[Thus reassured, I asked him to turn on the TV so we could see when this claustrophobia-inducing low pressure system would go away (to come again some other day), and we were treated to early reports of the Rockaway plane crash. Oh, great, we said to each other with resigned horror, and I dutifully watched an hour or so of the coverage as John got ready for work and left.]

[We're taking American Airlines to Chicago at the end of this month, and no, this changes nothing.]

["There is only one thing that I like
and that is whistling in the dark
Whistling in the dark
Whistling, whistling, whistling in the dark
Whistling, whistling, whistling
Dark, dark, dark, dark..."]

[They Might Be Giants' Flood got me thru many tedious jobs in the early 90's, and many tedious drives between Santa Barbara and the Bay Area...]

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