This morning I dreamed that Robb had been sent to prison. His cell was actually rather nice nice, all clean white surfaces. But he didn't have much room to move around. I was allowed to visit, but there seemed to be all sorts of unstated rules about what he was allowed to do, and own. He was spending his energy taking the things he did have and adapting them to other uses.
We didn't know why he was in prison, or how long he would be there, but we had resigned ourselves to making the best of the situation, and facing things with good humor and resourcefulness.
If that isn't a metaphor, I don't know what it is.