After a rough July and August, I put all my hope in the September basket that life would mellow out. But in the first week of the new month, I got laid off from my job and our oldest son got you-know-what. When he first came home from an afternoon of swimming, eating too much, and throwing a football in 112˚ weather, we assumed his sick feeling was heat stroke. Or food poisoning. Or both. I mean, I might’ve uttered a nervous whisper that sounded something like, “That you, Rona?” But I mostly blamed it on the pulled pork and Hawaiian potato chips.  The next day his energy plummeted and…