Awhile back,  I encountered Herman, my scary voice in the night, hiding out in the bedroom.

He was listening to the news on his Ipad, channeling images of fierce storms, economic collapse, posturing politicians, revolution and repression. And some disease and catastrophes.

Herman, I said. Why don’t  you go somewhere else? I am sick of you, and frankly, you are not of much use to me anymore. I’m sick of fear and am thinking about money and fame instead.

I have lost faith in you. You are not my life, and I do not wish to listen to you anymore. You need to be in health care, or the insurance business, maybe working for a mortgage company. How bout taking a hike.

Herman was offended, hurt a bit, and I felt badly. But not too badly. Then I didn’t see him for a bit, and when I came out of the farmhouse this morning, I think I found his new place. Not quite in the house, not quite ready to leave.

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