January 3, 2002

Good weather today. Winds from the south-west, meaning Pacific air finding it’s way all the way up here (a long haul). Temperatures rose; ice did a Wicked Witch of the West thing, melting like a crone with a good dose of water.

Unfortunately, despite the pleasantness of the air, the winds are like Tramontanas. They make you bitchy; they make the bones and muscles ache; they make sleeping an off and on affair. At least for me. Like what Melville said at the start of Moby Dick about wanting to knock people’s blocks off. The world frowns on that though …

Today was a long, fruitless and grumpy traverse to its end. I accomplished next to nothing, starting a million things, finishing nothing. And bitchy? Everything annoyed me. I hate days like these.

The upside, I suppose, is tomorrow should be an improvement and it’s Friday. Everybody say, “Yay!” Thank you.

Weird, truncated week. No one’s yet into the, “Christ, I gotta work for a living …” panic mode normally associated with a working week. And this is good, though it makes the thinking person worry for what’s coming up next week. You know, the anal-retentives and business boys and girls back and energy charged as they bellow, “Build that bottom line! Extend those revenue streams! Grow that market share!”

Gad! Where do they find these people?

Hmm … I’m sounding far too glum. Must put a wrap on this. So …


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