In Which Your Humble Blogger starts again.
In Which Your Humble Blogger believes in being headed somewhere, so long as we don’t fool ourselves into believing we’re getting somewhere.
In Which Your Humble Blogger talks about this Tohu Bohu and your deep appreciation for every aspect of it.
In Which Your Humble Blogger would gladly hold the door so that it doesn’t hit anybody. I hate it when the door swings shut that fast anyway, you might want to have a look at the mechanism, frankly.
In Which Your Humble Blogger isn’t stoned, I swear, but I mean have you ever really looked at snow? I mean looked at it?
In Which Your Humble Blogger is unusually despondent and probably needs a little Jeanette MacDonald inspiration.
In Which Your Humble Blogger is a cranky old man, but not The Cranky Old Man. Not the definite article.
In Which Your Humble Blogger aims for a kind of dry ironic tone, and probably misses by a mile. Ah, well.
In Which Your Humble Blogger actually, in point of fact, and with an eye toward punctilious honestly, has a bag that is neither new nor even new to me, but that has only been in frequent use over the last six months or so.