You have every right to think I am making this up, but, honestly, it’s true. Ask any Cancerlander: The ground underfoot here undulates. It’s not a wild undulation, and it isn’t constant either. The motion is subtle, and not entirely unpleasant. Think of a good-sized ferryboat on a calm day. You’re pretty sure the deck is rising and falling but it’s such a lovely, steady rocking-chair kind of feeling that you can almost convince yourself it’s all in your head — until, that is, you do a sudden cha-cha crossover step and find yourself on the rail. It’s more amusing than anything else: Ha ha, this isn’t terra firma after all, is it?
Well, that’s it exactly: This isn’t terra firma after all, is it?
Once you understand that, you also understand why it is so hard to put down roots in Cancerland.
The place keeps trying to buck you off.