Oh well, not everyone's perfect. Lessons learned I guess. Metrix, I think they're called by the truly insane. The known, unknowns, and the unknown, knowns. There's a whole raft of possible expressions to answer the question why a person might have left his snow shovel and snow shoveling boots in the barn rather than a little closer, like maybe the back porch of his domicile.
But it's true, in the winter wonderland a mind does begin to wander, it settles
to a pattern which might best be called "blank," it understands that hell is not
a hot place, there's no fire in hell, it's more like a snow dune place, the
devils are little white twirls and the sound of branches falling to the weight
of ice. The Sabeans were absolutely correct, we should never have wandered