You know the story about the farmer's wife who was happy that Daylight Saving Time was on again because the cows needed the extra sunshine.  Two things to note there: I don't think that Saskatchewan, which is where the cows are (?), honours DST. And two, why is it always a woman who makes these charming, egregious errors?  I don't really like DST, at least not until later in the season.  I am an early riser and swim at 6 a.m.  The sky was getting a little brighter until this morning; now, it's pitch black again, very depressing. But here's the good news: for the next week, perhaps, I will be waking earlier and can use the extra time to write.  That's nice.  SOW, it's Sunday.  I get the Sunday New York Times. (Happiness is the Sunday New York Times).  Talk about blogs1 My inner dialogue is running full throttle as I read the Review section.  There's a man who has reduced his living space to 400 and some square feet, with a pull-out bed and ten shallow bowls to eat from.  Years ago I wrote a book called ENOUGH  when I divested myself of most of my goods and moved into a winterized (read: cold) cottage on a lake in Muskoka (Canada).  I kept my books, though, and they were good insulation but I needed a jack under the floor to support their weight. I should write more about that.  Tomorrow, when I wake earlier.