When my daughter Chara gave her dad a science novel for Christmas, or maybe his birthday which are the same day, she probably thought of it as a filler gift. But within seventy two hours four people had curled up with it on the couch and turned every single page. The twins read simultaneously, which made it go faster.

I liked that the man stuck on Mars worked the problems one at a time. He realized that the food on board would not last until the next space ship arrived, so he found a way to grow some. Potato plants need lots of water, so he jimmied a hydration retrieval system. When he finagled a means to communicate with earth there was no audio, and no twenty foot paper with a ten foot pen, so he used rocks. Letters seemed tedious, so he used Morse code.  

Our chicken endeavor has been a long series of problems, like punctuation between the pleasure of cuddling Silkies. It got tiresome to rush home to turn on or off their coop lights, so John ordered a timer. The waterers were constantly dirty, so now they have hanging buckets. In winter the water freezes, so I sprung for an electric device. As the flock grew we acquired more enclosures. My current dilemma is the three inches of mud outside the back door. I'm still wrestling that one. In the meantime we have four door mats, three pairs of rubber boots, and I wash a lot of pants. 

Relationships are rife with problems. What puzzles me is when people assume there are no solutions in the solar system.