One day you are feeling fine, even festive. You're going to put on your "spring and all" tattered chemise and dance in the kitchen. Then in the time it takes for a cirrus cloud to cross the sun, you feel like an inert thing, some mossy rock for instance. The disability tornado has got you. One minute you were minding your own business, then you're in the funnel of nameless nowhere particles. This is disability. The average able bodied person couldn't make it in this world. Or they'd learn. The worst thing in your day is not the red light that stopped your car. Disabilities represent the anarchy of indiscrete substances. Here comes your grandmother, disguised as a wolf, telling you nature is unfair.