We’ve had a sheet of plastic at the top of our stairwell for two years. It provided a physical and psychological barrier to the lower half of our house, the half that was ruined in the flood of ought-five. For many long months I’ve looked forward to the day when that plastic sheeting would come down, as a grand symbol of our recovery. Of course it didn’t work out that way: I took it down this morning and yawned. A lot of work remains to be done, but that plastic was getting pretty raggedy.