This, it turns out, is how the world ends. Not with a bang or a whimper, but with an email from your insurance company.

If I’m honest, I feel slightly betrayed. Hollywood assured me that our future crises would be sudden and elemental rather than slow and bureaucratic; that middle-class, urban life would go on more or less as it is now until the fire and water and tornadoes arrived and we all jumped in our cars to form the great honking traffic jam that happens in the middle of the first act. ..

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