I like that my couch is firm enough for my cup of coffee to stand securely on a coaster on the cushion next to me without fear of its overturning.
I dislike that this computer now shuts itself off when it is plugged in for very long; it's become a charge-when-shut-down-only machine. Bah.
I like that I've been a housewife every afternoon all week, washing clothes, switching out seasonal clothes (in spite of our 2 80-degrees-in-NOVEMBER days), baking (without wheat or gluten--kudos to Hannah for being my new housewife heroine; I couldn't do this all the time), and generally getting things accomplished that are not income-related (don't ask about my Arbonne progress this week. . .arrgh. . .I just want to stay home.
I dislike that I am 2 feet short of the fringe needed for the fleece cape/poncho I am making myself and that I do not know if I can get more, since these materials were a birthday gift from my grandparents 2 years ago (Yes, I'm just now making the poncho. Teaching takes everything else out of you.) Bah.
I like my music. . .that's about to die with the computer.
And I like Chesterton. So here's some more about actually living life:
To sum the whole matter up very simply, if Mr. McCabe asks me why I import frivolity into a discussion of the nature of man, I answer, because frivolity is a part of the nature of man. If he asks me why I introduce what he calls paradoxes into a philosophical problem, I answer, because all philosophical problems tend to become paradoxical. If he objects to my treating life riotously, I replay that life is a riot.And just for the sheer joy of words:
But clearly it is quite true that whenever we go to hear a prophet or teacher we may or may not expect wit, we may or may not expect eloquence, but we do expect what we do not expect. We may not expect the true, we may not even expect the wise, but we do expect the unexpected. If we do not expect the unexpected, why do we go there at all? If we expect the expected, why do we not sit at home and expect it by ourselves?