The wind blew hard and wicked all day.

As it started to die down toward nightfall, I tarped the wooden foundation of the shed–I’m only about that far on it.

Tarped, because they said the first coldstorm was supposed to happen around two in the morning. But it’s 9 PM and I just heard thunder. Checking the outside, it’s rain five hours early. Maybe it’s 2 AM for the snow now. But still 56 degrees out.

Because of the wind, and partly self-grat too, I didn’t get done everything I’d wanted to. But I didn’t waste the day. I cleaned out my primary public email account, dumping about 4000 pieces of shit and filing a hundred more for posterity. 42 exactly left in the Inbox, which fits on one screen; maybe 10 of those with any urgency at all associated, like a stray domain name expiring in 60 days–that kind of not so urgent urgent, emergency.

On this evening rain evening I begin to crave a cup of something hot, but I’m shy of the caffeine fucking my shivering fragile artificially normal schedule. So it’s tea.

I always have too many kinds. I picked Organic Hibiscus. With organic honey. Is this virtue signalling? If it is, it’s only because I’m telling you about it; no signal otherwise.

And too, this is a perfectly timed and truly daily spill.

I do feel virtuous, dammit, in spite of sleeping 3 to 11 and waking up cranky because that was too late. I feel like I’m waking slow to myself, the real one, and I feel well-rested.

It seems my real self might write in shorter punchier choppier sentences.