Most days there’s a moment when I’m feeling a little under the weather
or someone is annoying me and I’ll have a peek in the papers at the
exchange rate from dollars to pounds.

Bigger catastrophes require a more hit of something more powerful. A
bad day has me pricing airfare. A bad week during the winter has me
casually skimming the American School’s job listings. This year that week was
so bad, I actually sent a pre-application. They so wanted me.

Usually these little fixes keep the monsters at bay.

Then you have a week that's worse. And suddenly the radio is playing "Anarchy in the UK" and you can't get past the Old Neighborhood without the Clash coming on.

And when London is calling, you gotta accept the charges.

The gods want me to go back. I'm powerless against this kind of karma.

This is the kind of emergency those credit cards "for emergencies" are for.