I don't think that I've managed to rev up my metabolism enough to be ready for winter yet. Like many years previous, I'll fall back on the old standby of Upper Midwestern Stubbornness. Which means that, as my fingers stiffen and the engine temp has not moved the needle above ground level and I wonder whether I could score an after-market heated steering wheel, the race-memory of ancestors raised in Iowa and Minnesota blizzards kicks in. "Just what you need in a car: One more thing to break!" it scolds.
Sigh. They're a tough crowd, those ancestors. Doubtless I already scandalize them every day I live, even without such effete thoughts.
Being the geek I am, though, I almost immediately thereafter thought: "Hey, that's not a bad standard for software features, either." I certainly don't mean that no improvements should be made--we'd be driving the software equivalent of the Model T otherwise.
But acknowleging that every feature will probably need to be fixed or at least fine-tuned (or, in the worst-case scenario, overhauled) is a good tonic for the enthusiasm and kitchen-sink mentality that tends to permeate the design phase of computer programs, from 1.0 to what-version-are-we-up-to-now? Merely visualizing having to fix your pet feature--even without a (justifiably) cranky customer involved--has a tendency to bring things back to reality. Or, if you're squeamish about quashing the romance, consider it merely laying a solid foundation under your mansion of clouds. Whatever keeps one foot in Kansas and one on the rainbow...
