No matter how much sense the metric system makes, based on the decimal system, it somehow seems to be missing the poetry of days gone by.
Imagine how different Frost's poem would have been if he had lived in a time of metric. "And kilometres to go before I sleep"' doesn't have the same ring to it as "And miles to go before I sleep, and miles to go before I sleep." does it?
And how about the children's verse of the worm climbing the yellow flowers. "Three centimetre worm, Three centimetre worm" comes no-where near "Inch-worm, inch-worm, measuring the marigolds."
Waiting for the first drink of the day until the sun is over the metre-arm wouldn't be nearly as much fun as waiting for it to cross the yardarm.
Even the price of gas seems so different by the litre instead of the gallon. Now we have to figure out not the "miles per gallon" for fuel efficiency, but the "kilometres per litre."
I know progress is supposed to be wonderful and fulfilling and helpful to society but there are times, I think, when we should just let it be.
Sigh! I think I'll go pour myself a quarter litre of coffee and add in maybe 25 grams of sugar and a millilitre of cream. Yumm!