I hate the "content mining" mode in criticism. It's not as though I never did it myself. There's a point at which everyone has to do some of it in some fashion, but I don't like it. They call formalism sterile, but what is really sterile is a mode that doesn't attend to form, the living breathing soul of the poem is its rhythms, its particular cadence.

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The "seven times" rule. The chimney to your gas appliances cannot be more than seven times the diameter of the smallest duct in one of said appliances. Selling a house is not fun. Six and seven hundred dollar repairs lurk around every corner.