Lately it seems that the days have become about four hours shorter. That has something to do with why I haven't posted in a week, though I've also felt a debilitating apathy that made it hard to work up the initiative to write here. (I've done a little better in comments on other people's blogs.) Today also ran short, but I promise I'll try to do better in this new month. Meanwhile, I'll pass along this wonderful image that someone I know posted to Facebook not long ago. I'll be back.
P.S. And then I found this cool article at the Guardian snapping back at Diana Rigg for putting down feminists:
The other day a perfectly nice chap opened the door for me in a restaurant so I spat in his face and started ululating Greenham style. Another man offered me a seat on the bus so I kneed him in the groin. Because I am a feminist and this is how feminists behave, right?Yeah, that's what I'm talkin' about.
Of course I did not do these things, nor have I ever met a woman who has, despite the fact that I am from the Paleolithic era. When Diana Rigg spouted this nonsense – the old "I like having doors opened for me" line – I wondered where the myth comes from. Mostly I see women bumping buggies down the steps at train stations while no one helps.