It was supposed to be warmer; but the march has begun to negative temperatures, although we are not expecting a great deal of snow. Of course we aren’t expecting it – Fate loves the surprise factor. I don’t know why I am so pissed off about it getting cold and icy; it could be I am looking for an excuse for the mood.

My eyes grew tired while reading just a few hours ago, so I closed them. Now, it is just past midnight and I am awake. Oh. Good. Uh . . . there’s that mood again.

I did wake up to find a nice email from my cousin; made me smile and feel warmth.

After I pushed Publish just a while ago, I looked at my email and saw an offer from Shutterfly – quite a handsome one – and I looked. I should not have done so because I came face-to-face with calendars and this year I did not make the one I had intended, the one that featured Shane. Why am I so distressed by that dog’s death? Obviously, it has linked itself to deep psychological issues in my brain/mind that are gut-wrenching. I could have said visceral, but I might as well be blunt.

It almost doubles me over; my breath is caught between in and out; my throat tightens painfully.

Of course, it is not wise to write such revealing things on the Internet, but then I am not young and looking for college admission or for a job and don’t have to worry about an potential employer seeking out any weaknesses. )Actually, I certainly have given anyone a good enough look by now, what with Poos and Bears and UDO’s.)

They say anything on the Internet is there forever; I hope so, because no matter what the world is made of, somewhere, somehow, I want Shane to know how much I loved him and how much I cherished whatever links to others he had.

Yes, it is January 2nd. I figured it would be, seeing as yesterday was the first. I looked at yesterday’s post, by the way, and see that I used a wrong verb tense, quite probably because I altered my sentence and didn’t proofread. One of my many faults. Well, so be it. I may actually go and open the edit section and change it or I may not. A dratted chore, dontcha know.

I suspect whatever higher powers may be did not like that attitude, because when I took a drink of cola, it tickled the back of my throat and it was all I could do to keep it from spraying across the keyboard as my reflex kicked in – or spat out, as it were.

And so, what now? Well, I don’t know; I’m sort of blah with not even a hint of the idea of a fresh start, a resolution, a determination to put my nose to the grindstone and just get on with it. I believe this could proof to be a problem, one that down the road could lead to my being in tears, gasping through sobs how sorry I am to have been so irresponsible, lazy, unmotivated, whatever.

That was an uplifting thought . . . but that sarcasm did not have a motivating effect. Goodness. I am at a loss. Have I tried entering one of my other latent potential personalities yet? Might be a bit risky, not to mention being assumed to be dementia by those around me. Who IS this nice person? Obviously, doctor, she’s gone round the bend. Then again, there might not be another personality, which is stretching my imagination as does physics. Is the cat dead yet? Sorry, inside joke with Der Bingle.

Well, tomorrow is the third and maybe three is the charm.