It's been pretty tough to do any writing this week

What with the running and sleeping and eating and reading to the girls and taking them places and yardwork and helping the inlaws winterize the lake place...

Ah, woe is me.

Of course, I'm actually rather enjoying myself. Funny I didn't mention work in there anywhere. I'm also having to adjust to some new circumstances there, though not completely new. I just have the feeling of being like the new goldfish won at the fair. More I can't say.

If my style sounds a bit funny, it's because I've just finished reading chapter 35 of Luisa May Alcott's Little Women, and I fear it has improved my mind.

I find that whenever I read something that is touted as great literature, these days, that it lives up to its reputation. At least everything before the turn of the twentieth century. The twentieth century German authors I read in college were a bunch of, shall we say, weirdos. Although, I like Kafka. He at least had a sense of humor. D;¨urenmatt made jokes, but they were unrelentingly dark.

Now you know why I call myself a philistine. I refuse to resign myself to society's lemminglike charge into the Abyss, nor do I pretend to stand above it, laughing. Nor do I reject many of the parts of society which my professors wanted me to.

Ah! Enough of that! Time to heal unconsciously for a while in preparation for my next run.