Saturday

What, Saturday again? Didn't we just do this? The days of the week have a disturbing tendency to roll around like clockwork. Just once, I'd like to see a genuine month of Sundays. Instead, all we're going to get is a Sunday which is only twenty-three hours long. The break in time's monotony only comes twice a year, with a larger break once every four years. But those damned days of the week never change.

Still don't feel much like writing. ( Another Picture )

Oh, yeah. It has cleared for the time being, but still as cold as a warlock's willie. At least Sluggo behaved himself a bit better tonight. (Knock on fake-wood veneer of particle board computer desk.) I'm going to sleep. Wake me when you find out why a helicopter landed in a field north of my house in the middle of the night. I suspect an elaborate prank. If Ashton Kutcher shows up, I won't hesitate to seal him up in the crawl space under my house.

The Chill Still

There must be some sort of event taking place in town, because I see searchlights. (I seldom know what is going on around here. It would probably help if I read the local paper, but I've never been able to work up an interest in it. Small town papers tend to be pretty stupid these days. Maybe they always were, I don't know. Anyway, I don't read it.) Actually, I don't think it is searchlights, but just one searchlight with four beams. Something new-fangled I've never seen before. Because it is cloudy, I can't actually see the beams themselves, but only the spots they make on the clouds. They constantly describe four counter-clockwise circles, like the leaves of a four-leaf clover, all four beams briefly coming together in a bright spot at a central point, then flying apart again. I stood in the cold for several minutes, mesmerized by their motion. Yes, I'm easily entertained. But what can I do? As I said, it's a small town, and entertainment of any kind is rare.

The storms are coming in one after another, with only a few hours of clear sky between them. The latest one dragged its shade across the forest this afternoon, before I had time to go for a walk. I enjoy the gray day, but prefer it to be less cold than it is now. All the insects that were out a few days ago have vanished. No bees buzz around the lilacs or the cherry blossoms. The waxy tulips display their intense color to the empty air. The chill has suspended spring, and everything waits for the rain to fall, and the drifting clouds to pass.