Why does the world exist? I gave my husband Jim Holt's book for Christmas. He has been reading it steadily, with regular reports on his progress. Finally yesterday he said, this book is making me sad. When I got it for him, I thought it sounded a lot like the quantum physics book he enjoyed a few years ago, but instead it seems I gave him a metaphysical downer. I knew the author had suffered some losses before writing the book, but the reviews led me to believe that his reflections were not morose.
Meanwhile, as I was making our dinner salad, one of the cats threw up a hairball somewhere in the house. I could hear the far away muffled sounds of hacking. I looked all over the floor, upstairs and down, and did not find it. As the proverb goes, when the housekeeper is ready, a hairball appears, but this time not until later. I was filling the water bowls when I saw it on our bed. I had just made the decision to wait until tomorrow night to wash a load of clothes. I have preparations to make for tomorrow's classes. Perhaps the proverb should go, when a tightly packed evening approaches, a laundry crisis appears.
The loss of time comes in many forms, tragic and trivial.
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