And, depending on one’s current life condition, that could be pretty blasted problematic. Beth Nolan for one greeted the dawning of a new Florida morning with squinted eyes and a pounding head; to her the rays of a golden sun equaled little more than a bane to her senses—a reminder that a night of blissful respite had reached an unruly end. With the coming of the sun arrived the realization that another day of work was about to commence; a day of standing on her feet behind the counter of Siren’s Call Books, the small store she operated on the border of the beach in Paradise Bay, FL. A day of worrying about bills, taxes, and the young, fresh competitors who’d just opened a chain book store a mile away from her modest shop. “And those are my good days.” A bad day was a 24-hour period very similar to this one; a day that began with a splitting migraine headache—one prompted in all likelihood by summertime allergies—and a readymade supply of flamingo droppings delivered fresh to the front entrance of her pink sandstone business.
