It's a thing, perhaps it's irony, that you think of something to say at the least opportune time to be able to express it. Like when people always say that they are great at thinking up a wonderful retort five minutes after their oppressor has departed. Useless. Ironic? Possibly not. I keep thinking of the most wonderful things to blog about, but it just so happens that I am then unable to transfer them into a durable format (brain waves are so fleeting and unreliable, not like stone tablets or a decent notepad) that will eventually become blog.
Perhaps it's just one of life's inevitabilities that we should be so thwarted. Celine Dion sang once about rain and tax being the inevitables in life. Certainly a sight more cheery than death and taxes, which is the standard aphorism there. It's certainly a cheery little song, a faintly R&B number with a wubby beat buried somewhere underneath the icepick-to-the-ears vocalistics. Sadly the only inevitability about rain and taxes these days is that people will take to twitter to moan about them both. Which, perhaps ironically, does solve that problem of thinking up something to say at the least opportune time. Although all my best tweets come to me when I've left my computer somewhere else. Odd, that.
2 hours ago