Well-read People Are Less Likely To Be

An Apocryphal Story - The Word "apocryphal" Here Means "obviously Untrue" - Tells Of Two People, Long Ago, Who Were Very Bored, And That Instead Of Complaining About It They Sat Up All Night And Invented The Game Of Chess So That Everyone Else In The World, On Evenings When There Is Nothing To Do, Can Also Be Bored By The Perplexing And Tedious Game They Invented.

But There Was More, As There Always Is When The Love Goes. She Was Haunted, Naturally. Otherwise What Is The Point, Why Leave Your Rickety House, And Why This Yo-yo World Giving Us Things And Yanking Them Back?

The Hallway Was Lined With Numbered Doors, Odd Numbers On One Side And Even Numbers On The Other, And Large Ornamental Vases, Too Large To Hold Flowers And Too Small To Hold Spies.

They Say Love's Like A Bus, And If You Wait Long Enough Another One Will Come Along, But Not In This Place Where The Buses Are Slow And Most Of The Cute Ones Are Gay.

It Is A Miracle If You Can Find True Friends, And It Is A Miracle If You Have Enough Food To Eat, And It Is A Miracle If You Get To Spend Your Days And Evenings Doing Whatever It Is You Like To Do, And The Holiday Season - Like All The Other Seasons - Is A Good Time Not Only To Tell Stories Of Miracles, But To Think About The Miracles In Your Own Life, And To Be Grateful For Them, And That's The End Of This Particular Story.