Unfortunately, it looks like a meteorite did not hit our house. As my husband unsportingly pointed out, the bird’s nest above Jackson’s window can account for the streak of dirt below his window pretty convincingly. And the rock I found is not even a little bit magnetic. And now I’m faced with the knowledge that I’m more likely to throw my lot in with a colorful theory than continue to investigate until the cold hand of reality pushes me into the unheated swimming pool of fact. I’m pretty much my own cargo cult.
Fortunately, Jack’s competing theory that someone in the unit below ours was jumping on the bed and their head cracked into their ceiling so hard that it moved five-plus pounds of gaming systems is almost crazier than my meteorite gambit. However, after a little more discussion, we realized that the electrical panel for the entire building is underneath Jackson’s window, and that maybe a fuse or a circuit blew. And now you are really tired of this discussion, so we’ll let it end there.
Thanks for all the birthday wishes! It was a good one, but coming as it did so hard on the heels of my post-holiday letdown, I seem to be in a bit of a funk now. It might be cured by a long walk, or some plaintive Medieval choral music, or funny cat videos, or more hugs. I guess I’ll try all of those things and see what happens.