If I Were A Rich Man
I might as well admit that I'm not going to do anything else today. A lot went on this week and I have the debris of various projects all over the place, but I'm just going to leave it where it is. So I'll blog for a bit.

I don't think much about being wealthy. There aren't many things that I want. In fact one of my primary ambitions in life is to live without an automobile, but I haven't lived anywhere where that's practical. The only time I really think about being rich is when I take a shower. In my existence, this has always meant tweaking the faucet handles until I find a reasonable temperature, and then somehow getting that up to the shower head without being hit with that blast of cold water (maybe aiming it squarely on the top of my head or trying to avoid it somehow), and then dealing with intermittent changes in temp -- warmer colder scalding freezing. During those moments I wonder what rich people do -- big tubs and fancy fixtures of course. I would demand that the water be at my prescribed temp BEFORE it came out of the faucet. I would also have a tub that is big enough for comfort, with little jets all around so I could hit a switch or something and have new pre-heated water, instead of a little pool of warm water at one end of the tub that you have to swish around. Man, that would be the life.

I remember looking at the paintjob on the wood around the window of a house I was renting. It was decent enough, but had that familiar look of newer paint slapped on old wood. I thought that was how things had always looked for me, and more than likely how they always would look. So far that's been about right.