Maybe it would be simpler if I just retired and got it over with. Or maybe it wouldn’t.
Archive for Ventually
And if you think I ought to be ashamed of myself, I’ll probably agree with you.
What can you say to someone who’s already decided she wants to die? “Don’t do that” seems somehow inadequate.
You know how some people say “good as dead”? There are times when I think “dead” might actually be better, and this is one of them.
And at the moment, that strikes me as a hell of a lot to assume.
The circumstances aren’t quite the same, but I know the sentiment.
Some people just look right no matter how horribly they may be dressed.
What can I say? I’ve had ’em. In fact, I’ve had ’em just assembling this piece.
In which I consider the possibility of spending the rest of my days in a seated position. Not that I want to or anything, you may be sure.
Funny thing about that hourglass: if someone inverted it before the sand ran out, you’d never really know, would you?
I mean, I’m pretty sure I wouldn’t.
A lot of names don’t mean what they used to mean. Like “Cadillac,” for instance. Or “Democrat” or “Republican.”
Some people think of this state as a laughingstock. Others cry over its failings. Me, I figure what goes around eventually comes around.
I was one of five children, my mother one of seven. A friend has eight, with a ninth on the way. Surely there’s room for someone who doesn’t wish to have any.
The Hour of Indecision presents: “There’s a dead squirrel on the curb!”
For comic relief:
Hope it works.
In the Battle of the Century, it’s Man vs. Bathroom Fixture!
Spoiler: See below.
To some, an architectural specialty; to others, a symbol of opportunity; to me, an adversary of long standing.
I’m just as amazed as you are: this Web site was actually founded on 9 April 1996, and at the time, all of it would fit on a 3.5-inch floppy. (Okay, not a 720k 3.5-inch floppy, but let’s not get technical here.) I’m declaring an open thread for the day; however, I am not actually going to take the day off, because, well, I just don’t do that sort of thing. I never figured this place would last this long. Then again, I never really figured I would last this long, and we know how well that worked out.
A lot can happen in 10.7 miles, especially if you’re sleepy in the morning or weary in the afternoon, or, in my case, both of the above.
This is the person to whom, Polonius said, we must be true. The tricky part is figuring out who that person really is.
I may ask myself, “How do I work this thing without having to learn something new?” And, in fact, I do ask myself that on a regular basis.
Why are some places better to live than others? Maybe it’s something in the soil. Or maybe not.
Today I get to fill out a ballot, and this is what’s been going through my head while I contemplate the matter.
There are, to be sure, certain expectations one must meet on the feast of St Valentine. And as always, I have failed to do so.
It began here:
Plunge taken. May the Gods of the Copybook Headings forgive me.
— Charles G Hill (@dustbury) June 27, 2009
Seventy thousand tweets later, where it stands.
An unfortunate incident on a Friday in the dead of winter.
(Yes, Friday. No, it’s not about whatshername.)
How is it I know all these people I don’t really know? I barely know the people I know, if you know what I mean.
It is of course inevitable that something will eventually kill me; this is the fate of all of us, and God knows there’s no reason I ought to be spared. But I have this unfortunate tendency to see my eventual demise as, well, imminent. And it’s not. (I think.)