The View from Mummy P's Front Door: There's No Place Like Home

Mummy Plotnik was scheduled to fly back up to Saint Plotniko yesterday, with Plot and Duck, to bask in one of the glorious three weeks we call Summer. Plot had figured it was at best a 50-50 chance she would make it, but when Saturday came and went, and everyone spent a great time at Schmeckl's, and Mummy P. hadn't gotten sick yet, he might have raised the odds a bit.

But no. Sunday, she came down with a toothache, which led to an emergency trip to the dentist, and an antibiotic, and antibiotics always mess up her stomach, which leads to the runs and no sleep, and here come the headaches. This is a familiar pattern which appears to be caused by an equal combination of illness plus a disinclination to leave the safety of home.

What a pity. Mummy P. is bored out of her mind at home, and the one friend she has left is on her last half a leg. A change of venue would seem to make a lot of sense, but this observation comes from the vantage point of being younger. As Plot noticed with The Chief not so long ago, the marker between 'older' and 'old' is you start losing control over basic things. You desperately want to hold on to all those you can, especially if you've been as independent your entire life as Mummy P. has.

Being home means you have your own coffee, your own coffee cup, your own sink to put the cup in. Being home means you eat the food you are used to, listen to the radio when you want to and keep the heat on as high as you want. Being home means if you aren't feeling great you don't have to smile and pretend everything's fine.

Plottie is not criticizing here, not one bit. It's very easy to understand. Plot and Duck's house is old and has steep stairs. It's colder in the house than Mummy P. is used to. Hell, it's colder in a tent in Saudi Arabia than Mummy P is used to. Plottie's Mom has traveled all over the world and she has a lot of pride. She is afraid that she'll get sick when she's at World Headquarters, and then she will be a burden to her family. More than anything, she does not want to be a burden.

One way to make sure she won't get sick when she leaves home is to get sick before she leaves. The illnesses are real -- the bad tooth is real, Plot and Duck saw it on the X-Ray -- she's got a pocket behind the last molar the size of a meteor crater -- but we're talking about her reaction to it. Today, she's home in Stiletto City, lying on a sofa with an ice pack. She could do that anywhere. But it's better to be home.

There's no place like home. Dorothy knew it. So do we.