This is the first time this winter that they've cried snowstorm and really meant business. The snow seems to have stopped everything, as though everyone looked out of their windows this morning and decided to call a time-out.

For the past couple of nights, I've been dreaming the next day. It's been realistic enough that it leaves me uncertain when I wake up. I really thought yesterday might be Wednesday. Now it feels like I'm going backwards in time, only there aren't any tragic mistakes to undo. Those sorts of things tend to happen at the ends of weeks, not the beginnings.

Jackpot is finally selling his car. His whole life is subway accessible, and he never really needed a car, but when he got it he was mostly still a teenage boy, and I guess they need cars in a way that I don't understand. Since he's decided to sell it, we've been trying to think of things we want to do that we need the car for, to get it all out of our systems. On Sunday afternoon we drove our bikes to Flushing Meadow Park. The weather is really no good for riding in the streets. It turned out that the weather was no good for riding in the park either; all of the roads were covered in ice. We ended up making our way around the park on foot, running as fast as we could across frozen lawns when we felt that the cold was killing us. And it was a perfect and strange thing to see the llamas and ponies and goats milling around in the snow... I think that this week we're going to drive to Staten Island. I forget it's there, sometimes.

Now I remember something else having to do with that car that I want to say, but I don't have the time to get into it. Maybe next time.