DST

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.