I’ve rallied a bit. I’m still trying to figure out whether we’ll actually have a visit; if Ruth and Nora want us to drive up to the Emerald City (as I suspect), well, we’re waiting on a check (and have been for seven weeks now) that should, cross your fingers for me, come soon and let us get the car checked out. The car is running—the Mister can get to work—but my husband tells me that we can’t take it on any long or optional trips until it’s been looked at. It’s a 1997 with 200,000 miles on it, so we are of course hoping that we can get by with some minimal work done . . . but in the meantime, we can’t really leave the city, and have missed out on some good things and cool people because of it. [sighs] I’ve called and asked about the check and am assured that it should be here in the next week (this is a big, reputable company, so I know it will come some time). I find it embarrassing to talk about money, and had to send a quick email to Ruth explaining anyway—it doesn’t seem fair to let them twist in the wind without knowing why we won’t commit to a visit/might cancel at the last minute without a clear reason. Oh, well: these little humiliations build character, right?