I'm Gretchen Rubin, and this is a little happier.

Lately, I've been thinking a lot about paradoxes.

I do love a paradox, except myself and also expect more for myself.

The days are long, but the years are short.

To keep going, sometimes we must allow ourselves to stop.

When I encounter a paradox, it can stick with me for a long time.

I read something paradoxical in an article in the Wall Street Journal almost 20 years ago,

and I still think about it often.

In the article, it's a living, journalist Perry Capel writes about the ghost town of Silver City, Idaho.

In it, she quotes Ernest Lombard, former chairman of the Idaho State Board of Parks, saying,

there is a big problem with vandalism in Idaho ghost towns.

People say, I'd better take this home, so someone else doesn't steal it.

A person commits vandalism in the belief that they're preventing others from committing vandalism.

I absolutely identify with this feeling.

Recently, I went to my college reunion, and during the weekend, two of my former roommates and I went back to the places we'd spent the most time.

At Yale, where I went, students are randomly assigned to one of 14 residential colleges,

and each college is a collection of dorm rooms, dining hall, library, and other useful spaces.

Your college is your home space within the larger university.

My roommates and I wandered around our college, Solomon, just to look around, and this visit made me reflect on my visits to its little library.

As an undergrad, I didn't spend much time in this satellite library.

I spent a lot of time in the library, but I almost always went to the giant central libraries of sterling or CCL.

But whenever I did go to the Solomon library, I had a very strong urge to take some of the books.

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