Looks nice out through the window, though weather.com indicates it should be pretty cold.
Nice in here too. At the moment.
So, why do I have to feel I should go out and catch the remaining moments of the year before they’re gone, as if one day isn’t exactly the same as the next?
You don’t, I know, want to miss too much of life, which is (I suppose) out there and not in here. But I mean, trading today for next Thursday isn’t extreme, even if that day has a different number on it. Anyway, I got no money to spend out there and food accumulated in here. And I’m alone for who know how long (a good thing — the alone, not the who knows length).
Why is January 1st the beginning of the year anyway? Does that mean anything in reality?