Written Pyramids

I once had the belief that if -- while cold or wet -- I simply said to myself "well this is nothing like the time you covered the transit strike in December and couldn't feel your legs for hours" (for cold) or "well this is nothing like the time you stood outside in the rain to write about McCain's speech, and then had to stick around in the mud and wet after all the other reporters could go home" (for wet) then I would somehow, in the present moment feel less wet or less cold.

I have since determined that this is hogwash. I cannot pinpoint a time that I was colder than that night standing outside of a bus station waiting for the striking bus drivers who never arrived. Nor can I think of a time -- short of swimming or a shower--when I was more wet than the afternoon I covered McCain. But the memory of those moments does not suffice. The fact that I am cold and wet right now is not abated by the fact that three years ago (almost to the day!) I was colder and two-and-a-half years ago I was wetter.

Just something I thought I would share after coming back from a hibernation because I've been playing around with this.