I'm useless. Or doing a pretty good imitation of useless. Not having much fun, I'll tell you that. Oh, I've had my moments (some of them due to satellite TV, god bless it), but overall, these couple of weeks since returning from Madrid have been less than brilliant.
Let's see. Today's date: May 16. As in the day after May 15. Mid-May, five weeks shy of summer. Yesterday morning brought flurries. The day saw intermittent rain and snow showers until a bit of afternoon sunlight broke through.
Tuesday morning: went in to Montpelier to the gym, far too early. (Since returning from Madrid, I keep waking up early, often feeling -- knowing -- that I won't be getting back to sleep. May as well drag myself out of the house and into town for some healthy self-torture, know what I mean?) Numerous people came in talking about overnight snow -- anywhere from a dusting to three inches worth. The local radio weather nerds (and I mean that in the nicest possible way) reported local snowfall of seven inches. I can't even begin to summon up the words to describe how I feel about that.
I've been missing Madrid something serious. Me being out here in the mountains -- not enough distractions apart from those endemic to my situation -- missing that dynamic, sunlit city is probably logical. Coming here from there produced a gaping vacuum in what passes for this world of mine.
There's plenty more going on in this little life, of course, otherwise I wouldn't be going through this kind of boring angst. And I haven't been able to muster the desire or focus to write about it, though I did finally get out my other, more legitimate (pause for snorts of derisive laughter) writing.
Tomorrow I head down to the N.Y.C. area, returning Sunday in the company of a representative of the opposite gender for a few days' visit. Which will provide plenty of excuses not to write. Sometime soon, though, I'll get down to it. At which time there will be more activity here.
I know I've been saying that a fair amount. One of these times I'll actually mean it.