Regular Service

Third day. I might just make it at this rate. I still have no idea if anyone other than myself ever has, or ever will read this. For today that really doesn't bother me if no one ever sees it at all. Especially if certain people never see it. Always get squirrely about friends trying to read my writing. They behave as though they have to psychoanalyze every single word and turn it into some deep dark secret within my mind. It gets quite annoying.

Here comes the hard part for me. I ran out of my initial impetus. I had a story to mention on those first two days. Now, nothing. I really got to reach for it.

Today, today was yet another day. The snow was pretty deep, nice and cold out. I love it myself, winter, snow, ice, freezing winds, all of it. You get to go out, maybe make a buck or two shoveling someone's driveway or walk out. You get to run around, sliding down icy slopes. And people just get a little nicer out there as you trudge through the drifts.

For once, I was happy. There wasn't much to do outside. No one was paying for snow service. Kinda irritating as I need the money if I got any hope of salvaging Christmas. Not for me, I don't much care for the holiday, but my friends seem to like it if I can do things like bring them a home made pie, or ship them a gift.

I sat by the fire, I curled up with Ninja Steve, and watched myself some True Blood, recording it for my friend. A lazy day.


But in the end, probably good for me. I was getting depressed lately. I was frustrated and angry all the time. I found myself screaming out loud at trival matters that shouldn't bother me much at all.

Days like today, they are good for the soul. Hot cocoa, fire, a good story. What more can a man ask for?



Plenty, just ain't got a snowball's chance in hell at getting any of it.


So tonight I cut it short. I wish my friends of the past and present health and good fortune. Felicia, Curtis, Owlie, Sophia.

And that little vindictive part of me wonders if the spirit of Christmas will dish out some just rewards to my tormentors. Ah, I can only hope.



Til next time,

Grind Away