Jittery, but not from cold, although it IS cold. Damn cold. My breath streams before me, my soul leaking out around the edges. Someone told me that once, some tribe somewhere believes that's what winter breath is. It's not a comforting thought this morning. Not today.
The sun is pale, bleeding out into the sky. It will struggle feebly for a few hours and then die. Night. That's not a comforting thought either. I hope to be home by then, warm, safe. That's not what I expect, though. I expect to be dead.
1 comment:
I'm pretty pissed off. You owe me a lot of money. I tried the 1-800 number listed under the comments section of your July 29 entry, and I didn't meet anyone with common interests or desires. You would have thought there would be a lot of singles in my area interested in bee keeping...Go figure. Anyway I have $423.38 phone bill with your name on it.
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