I can’t seem to find much to write about these days. Hell, I can barely find anything I want to do other than sleep, eat, and drink beer.
These early days of winter have been some of the most depressing days I can remember. In the past week, we had a few inches of wet snow that quickly turned to slush and the days have been perpetually filled with rain, mist, and fog. The sky hangs low to the ground, and the dark slate daylight and early darkness of winter has the streetlights on 24/7. I’m not sure I’ve seen actual sunshine for more than a few minutes over the past week or more.
My lone venture outside was when I went for a walk through the slushy snow at the Sylvan Solace Preserve on Saturday as a cold rain drizzled on me. The rest of my time has been spent in front of a computer, in the bubble watching B play soccer, or on the Hammer in the Not-So-Stankment pedaling nowhere fast.
There’s an old saying: “If you can’t say something nice, don’t say anything at all.” If you tweak that saying to “If you can’t write something that doesn’t make you look like a depressed, fat, suicidal drunken nut bat, then don’t write anything at all,” you’ll know why I haven’t been posting much. Not sure I achieve that here, but it’ll do.