We all need to vent a little. For me, part of sitting by the edge of the lake alone is venting.

When I was a kid I heard a story, said to be an Indian tale. About the fox and the fleas. When the fleas got bad, the fox picked up a stick. Then the fox waded into a shallow stream. The fleas on the fox's legs ran up to the torso. Then the fox sat down. And the fleas toward the fox's rump hied to the head. Gradually, the fox submerged and the only dry spot left was the stick. And the fleas went to the stick. Then the fox let the stick float down the stream.

When I'm alone on the bank of the lake, I can let my fleas float away.

Tim
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