“Have you made a resolution?” my wife asked. Had not.
She said that rather than make grandiose plans – join a health club -- it is better to lighten the load, leaving more room and time for better things that come up.
She is consolidating some details – stuff that banks and companies don’t seem to know how to do anything, on automated phone hell. Made sense to me.
I hereby vow to write less in the new year about things I don’t care about – sports that vanished in my rear-view mirror years ago. Just because the web is an endless maw doesn’t mean we should try to fill it, minute by minute.
For a while, I’m going to lay off Donald Trump and Pete Rose (who may, in fact, be the same person.)
Plus, any web site that inserts 15-second video commercials is getting X’d out of my queue. That’s not why we learned to read and think, to watch stuff jump around.
I will write about stuff that excites me – like discovering a new Shakespeare play (for me, that is). But enough for today.
With the arrival of LED lighting, which costs so little to burn, every house has become an island of illumination, every city a blazing forest fire of artificial light. In my own backyard, it’s hard to enjoy the full moon because so many of our neighbors now leave their lights on all night long. And that’s without the holiday displays, each one bright enough to guide an airplane from the sky and land it safely in the middle of our street.
---Margaret Renkl, The New York Times, Dec. 21, 2022.