I live in the City of Winds. This morning it’s the City of Cold Winds. No snow yet, though. After all the work last night (went on to midnight) and after having had my morning bath to the gentle tunes of Albinoni, I feel quite pleased with myself. Now, off to work.

The ceasing delightfulness of stale bread and canned beans

This is somewhat terrifying: I am in the mood for writing, but I have nothing I want to write about. I envy writers that can make anything into a story of some sort. I cannot do that. I have done it before, but it seems harder and harder to write about nothing and turn that…