We have lived these past six weeks outside of our house. Our upstairs is down to beams, our floors have been evened, ten-inch studs have been embedded vertically through the kitchen and our first floor bedroom, their ends buried in five feet of cement in the ground below. The ceiling on the first floor has fallen. A water main broke and drowned our bed. A sturdy and jovial man named JC makes sly comments about the enormity of my midsection every time I tiptoe through, trying desperately to see my house in the apocalypse of plaster and sawdust.

All of this for the possibility of light, a do