De perdidos, al río. (From lost, to the river -in English, In for a penny, in for a pound.)
That’s how things are these days: crappy beyond belief, as one of the iguanas has rightly appraised. Faced with such massive heap-a-caca, the options aren’t all that many. One can throw in the towel and do away with oneself, in varying degrees of gracefulness, or let oneself die of rage, disgust and boredom. Or a body can decide to carry on regardless. Having survived that long under such in utterly intolerable conditions, one might as well hang around a little longer and see what happens next. The means to take the first option are always available, innit? The river isn’t going anywhere…
Have a splendiferous new week-soon-come and be thankful you're not a Palestinian, or in Port Au Prince right now, or a First Australian, come to think of it. Or, Bumba forfend, dependent on the NHS demi-gods’ vagaries for your wellbeing.