“I’m fixing a hole where the rain gets in and stops my mind from wandering where it will go.” — The Beatles

Not long ago, and without warning, a chunk of the dining room ceiling crashed to the floor.

“Hey Honey, we’ve got a skylight,” I said.

Actually, I am not that quick. I didn’t say anything. I sat at the dining room table transfixed. What just happened?

Mary was in the kitchen. She heard the crash and rushed to the scene of the disaster. She looked up at the hole in the ceiling and then at the debris on the floor in the corner of the dining room.

“I didn’t touch anything,” I said.

Maybe it was a meteor, I thought hopefully. Something of value might be lying in the corner. Maybe something of great value.

Unfortunately, there was a clue pointing in a less promising direction. The

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