With a nod to its rural heritage, America recently resurrected a lost hour, so now the days are brighter earlier and much colder. The bike ride to the bus stop is actually less terrible in the these months because the only motivation heat doesn’t kill is the desire to smash your nose into ice cream. With cold there is life in droves.
I’ve been involved deep deep deep in some super secret web-based project which may or may not turn out to be anything more than ashes flying across your nose, but I’m hoping it will be more substantial (two mentions of the nose in one post?…ugh). If it turns out to be the former, you will hear nothing of it; the latter, you may still hear nothing of it. The tea leaves are silent at this point.
On to something more topically appropriate, I was reading The Man Who Was Thursday