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Thursday, October 31, 2002

Motherofgod, it's a cold one out there this morning. Cold enough that my fingers got thoroughly numb while I was biking in to work, even with gloves on. And it'll get colder yet tonight, down into the teens, so I probably shouldn't be expecting too many trick-or-treaters. The upside is that the sun is out, for the first time in many days; but winter's paradox is that sunny days are colder, cloudy days are warmer. And even though the calendar still says October, we're playing by winter's rules now.

A weird fall altogether. The change of color was delayed, because it was such a wet summer, and then the cold came on early and hard, so now many trees are dropping leaves that never got a chance to turn, that are still green but freeze-killed. It's a melancholy sight, lawns littered with green leaves.

And I'm wittering on about the weather because I'm not having a lot of luck lately with putting together actual coherent thought-sequences here. I've got eight or nine unfinished entries saved on my desktop that start out incisively and then wander off into a bog of irresolute mumbling and general pointlessness. Job is OK, life is OK, the writing is (intermittently) OK, but anything beyond that just feels like Too Much Work. I'm hoping this is a temporary state, though, a grumpish inward-turning quasi-hibernatory response to to the settling cold and the shortening days.

Posted @ 09:16 AM CST [Link]6 comments