Eric Mayer

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Seems like every time I get this journal built back up the world comes crashing in on it. Which isn't much of a metaphor, now that I see it on the screen. Never mind. I guess I've coughed my brains right out this morning. Nothing left in there but a few lame metaphors rattling around. Don't you hate the common cold? But do you know what's worst about this one? It's my first in more than ten years and now I can no longer brag about not having caught a cold for ten years.

Our clocks are due to spring forward next week but where's spring? The forecast is for up to half a foot of snow tonight. What a winter. December, January and February were all colder than normal. We had several spells with temperatures dipping below zero, unusual here. But spring is bound to show up eventually. It always has before. Of course, there's always a first time....

In December the furnace broke, last month our cat passed away. A week later my uncle died. It made me feel a little foolish for grieving a pet. Our sorrow over pets seems disproportionate but perhaps we can grasp their passing more fully than the passing of a human being which is such an unthinkable enormity. I returned home from the funeral with the aforesaid cold, and a looming deadline for work, thanks to a foul up in the legal database I depend on.

Did I mention my computer has been acting up?

This is styled as a "journal" but I prefer to write short essays about small matters. I don't feel comfortable exposing my whole life in public, and aren't you glad? I write honestly about what I write about but there are many things I refrain from writing about.

I'd better go and check the forecast again. Maybe the cough will be gone tomorrow, and the snow will stay to the north and my car will start after two months. Maybe.

Good thing Mark released his e-anthology. (see previous post) That's something positive. And Mary, even as I write, is engaged in some heavy editing of the first draft for the new mystery book which is going to be called Nine For The Devil or Nine For A Devil or Nine For Demons or something of that sort. There's a variant of the old rhyme we've used for our titles that involves the devil and matches our story.

Fitting titles for a book produced during a hell of a winter.

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