Sometimes ya got it, sometimes ya ain’t.<\/p>\n
The deep part of winter — my first back in the NorthWET — wasn’t bad. But late winter and spring are dragging on like the worst of January. Cold. Gloomy. Eternally wet. I can’t remember the last time I saw sun. I have vague recollections of spotting blue sky last week, nuking a cup of tea with the intention of sitting on the deck — then discovering it to be pouring rain when I walked out the door.<\/p>\n
I went to the hardware store yesterday and bought yellow paint for the garret room upstairs. I hate yellow. I would never paint a room yellow. I fancy myself an aesthete with a taste for the cool, dark, and sophisticated. But now the world needs yellow, bright and uncomplicated.<\/p>\n
Painting walls or figuring out — with your astute help<\/a> — how to cope with the eccentric ghosts of century-old home builders seems pleasantly real compared with the insanities, inanities, and cosmic cruelties of the outside world.<\/p>\n I surf the ‘Net and find that I don’t care. Seeking miscellany since I have no brilliant insights for you, I come up with productive time wasting<\/a>, sad use of cool technology<\/a>, and a conditional refutation of Bastiat on the broken window fallacy<\/a>. (If true, does that make Bastiat’s refutation of a fallacy a fallacy itself? Who knows? Who cares?)<\/p>\n I learn belatedly that a young hero has cancer. This young woman is worth 10 of me. There’s nothing I can do for her, for her wonderful family. <\/p>\n I receive an undeserved gift for which I can never give proper thanks.<\/p>\n