And then there's this problem that comes with keeping a blog on a day-to-day basis: Having something to say on a day-to-day basis. Because there really was nothing much to yesterday except laying out Sirenia Digest #100. Which is, to put it kindly, not terribly interesting. Probably the best part of the day was the ten minutes or so I spent sitting in the sun on the front steps. The rest of the day, besides those ten minutes, can go hang. So can whoever it was started the myth that writers – as a class – live interesting lives. There was chili for dinner. We watched the first five episodes of Season Two of The Americans. My sinuses bugged me. It was a day.
Like most days.
Most days, I hardly leave this room.
But the sun is still with me, and the air is warm today, and after the past seven or eight months, a warm and sunny day, with greenery, is pretty close to heaven, close as I'll probably ever come.