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I've decided to just waste time for a few days. Free of goals, and all those demands I normally place on myself, the time left over after I do those things I have to do will be filled with whatever comes up, or with nothing at all. It has long seemed to me that these days between winter solstice and the beginning of the Gregorian new year are displaced, anyway. They don't belong to any particular time. The natural year is over, but the official year has not yet begun. This year, I will consider them days of nothing, and I will do as little as possible while they last.
The empty day of Christmas was entirely grey, but remained dry until after sunset. Since then, there has been a steady dripping from the sky. No actual rain, nothing that could be called a drizzle, and certainly not a mist. Just an odd, continuous dripping, as though the sky needed a plumber, but none was available because of the holiday. Everything is now soaked, and smells damp. The world has broken out in a cold sweat.
The empty day of Christmas was entirely grey, but remained dry until after sunset. Since then, there has been a steady dripping from the sky. No actual rain, nothing that could be called a drizzle, and certainly not a mist. Just an odd, continuous dripping, as though the sky needed a plumber, but none was available because of the holiday. Everything is now soaked, and smells damp. The world has broken out in a cold sweat.
