Of Moving and Cheese

My husband is very very (very) nearsighted. Periodically you accidentally move something he’s counting on early morning before he had his glasses on, and he — no longer goes ballistic, but — says “stop moving my cheese.”

This is of course a reference to some manual or other that said we’re like mice racing to the cheese and don’t like it when our cheese is moved. Keep this in mind. the whole post might seem to be about something else but this too is relevant.

The other day we had occasion to...