The Grass Is Greener ...

I am not just being cute with a cliche when I say the grass is greener at home. It really is, and I do not understand how or why. Here I live in a tree-covered place with humidity at tropical rainforest levels (OK, I have never actually been to a tropical rainforest, but I have an active imagination) and I am looking longingly at the grass in a DESERT. What?! I suppose it could be that the grass here has a trillion people stomping on it (Cougars may not cut corners, but people here really do) or maybe they do not believe in sprinklers. Whatever the reason, I miss the good grass.

And on the topic of missing, today I am remembering my dear old fish, Josh Lyman, whose untimely death last September caused me great woe. I thought of poor Josh Lyman when I read this sad tale in the NYT. Read all the way to the end of the story, or you miss the best part ...