But I've got to say, a few of those old self help books actually have some real gems buried in the fluff if you can look past the dated parts. The visualization stuff sounds silly, but I've caught myself accidentally planning better just by picturing what I wanted to get done first. Maybe it's less about the specific method and more about just getting yourself to actually stop and think for a minute.

Whoa, that's a good point @jessel35, but another angle is how different papers react - some cheap papers just drink up wheat paste and turn to mush, while PVA at least gives you a fighting chance to reposition before it dries.

Man, that lemon face lady sounds like a real one. I had something similar happen years ago when I was trying to find a specific record shop in this weird part of town. This old dude with a face like a bulldog chewing a wasp just grunted at me, then pointed down an alley and said "third door on the left, not the second, the third, the second one's a trap." I still don't know what that meant but I found the shop. Maybe it's just me but grumpy people seem to have a whole different level of focus when they decide to help, like they've been saving up all that crankiness for this one moment to prove they're useful. And yeah, strangers are weird, but mostly in a good way. A lot of people just want a reason to be helpful, even if their face doesn't show it.

Three years ago they put in those new flashing crosswalks on 5th street near the library. Cost almost 50 grand each and my neighbor works for public works so he told me. But nobody uses them because you have to push a button and wait forever so people just jaywalk anyway.

I mean, "stick with it past page 100" is basically the literary version of "just give it one more episode, it gets good eventually." I got to page 87 too, and honestly that felt like I'd already read three boring novels, not one. Maybe it's just me but I think Joyce was paid by the page to make sure nobody actually finishes the thing. My teacher probably thought she was opening a door to high art, but really she just gave me a lifelong excuse to avoid any book described as "the pinnacle of modern literature." I'd rather reread a cereal box than push through another 13 pages of that.