More and more, I wish I lived in 1892.  When I tell people this, they ask me–but what about computers, TV, indoor PLUMBING?  And, yes, it would be unfortunate not to have those things–but if you never had ’em, you wouldn’t miss ’em.

The appeal of 1892 is that you were in charge of your life, man.

There were not banks telling you that you need copies of CHECKS YOU’VE DEPOSITED in order to close on your house in 1 WEEK even though your bank says it will take that week to get the damn checks.  Ahem.

If there was, say, water leaking into the basement you were in the midst of building–you would fix it, because you would be the builder.  You wouldn’t sit and stew and wonder and wait for the walk through for them to talk you out of  worrying that your basement will implode the minute you sign your name to the house.  In fact, there would be no signing.  Hell, live long enough on some land and it is YOURS.

And there would be no cell phones, so your fiancee could not call you thirty times while you’re TEACHING to bitch and yell and be a general DOWNER about both situations.

Everything will work out.  We can only do what we can do.

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