One of the million little things that drive me crazy is how I seem to be prone to little injuries here and there without knowing what happened. There might be some thing I remember vaguely at the time but now all I have to show for it is a sore fingertip and no strong memory of why.
It’s warm this morning; it’s been warm and I may have to eschew my traditional wool shirt or get up earlier and ride in a more leisurely fashion, because sitting and sweating on the train is no fun, either. You make your own hay in this world and right now all I’m gathering is dust. I continue to get more data together and the picture that’s emerging is … good? Bad? Indifferent? The data say one thing, and it’s sometimes the interpretation that’s difficult, or maybe just the way you put them together and see trends and trials where there may otherwise be none. Drive this point home: the more data I gather the more confused I get; the art of engineering is not in the investigation but in the use.
These apartments next to the train tracks; I wonder how the insulation is, because the Caltrain operator’s manual must have a 500-page list of social situations when it’s acceptable to make noise (bells, horn, whistle) and a 1-sheet primer on when not. It’s more likely the train was there before you were, though, and whether you like it or not, they’ll still roll past, hour after hour long into the night and morning. I think of all the inevitable things in life and the train is a pretty mild one in comparison.
I wonder what other fun things might be in store for us the rest of this summer while we’re working on the same things that got us in trouble before. What really needs to happen is tapering off and this heat is bound to break eventually, right? Mid-week, they say, mid-week and we’ll be ready to put on long underwear and I can’t believe how this weather sustains itself.