I was warm enough, but I shut the window anyway, and now I'm cold. This winter doesn't feel like winter yet, even when I'm cold. It's not like fall either, even when the temperatures match. It's like a waiting room between seasons, and winter won't be ready for another week or two.

So far this year has been a weirdo. I don't know how else to put it. My fingernails have been very red the whole time, which I got used to surprisingly quickly. This week the polish is chipping to pieces, and it makes me wonder about the way some nails go so much quicker than others. It makes me wonder if my right pinkie ever does any real work at all. I can't imagine what my left pinkie's been up to. (I really don't like the word pinkie.) I've also been thinking about where the chips go, and am I leaving the tiniest trail of red all over this year? Who could track a trail like that?

You know, I had actual things to write about, I've had actual things to write about, but I can't seem to make myself. My mind keeps going to things that don't really matter, but pretend to, like that I think I have this way of answering the phone, this, "Hello...," that sounds a bit like, "Is there really somebody there? How is it possible that I'm hearing your voice from so far away?" My mind keeps going to things like this television show I saw where Imitation Angel Clare and Queen Elizabeth (the first) meet and maybe fall in love, and when she gets into that stolen car you're glad she did. Then, suddenly, I notice that I've wasted a lot of space and time, and maybe I should get out while I can.

The main thing is, in books and movies, when a character needs to go to pieces a little, it's best when they can find a partner to go there with them. A lot of the time it ends badly, but there are still those parts that seem worth it, when they find they've fallen off their rocker, but have managed to fall onto someone else's. How does that work, does it ever in real life? There are a lot of rockers to fall on around here, but none of them look good to me.