(no subject)

Earlier this week, I told myself I was going to be a good boy and work all five days this week. Four out of five ain't bad....

NYE was nice; brother, sister, friends, all at my place ringing in the new year. It was mellow, everyone stayed the night. New Year's day ended up being too lovely to work. 76 (24) and wonderfully sunny, we took canoes and kayaks into the canals and Boca Ciega Bay, went fishing on the dock, sunbathed, drank some beer.... By five or six o'clock, everyone had left and I fell dead asleep on my couch for more than an hour.

It's going to be even warmer today, perhaps up to the magic 80 degrees, but I'm working. I have to run around in a bit, so at least I'll feel a bit o'sun on my recently sun-kissed skin.

Day 2, no smokes.

(no subject)

I had to go to the bank in Tampa. Which means, of course, I had to drive over the bridge, which is rapidly becoming The Bridge in my mind.

Korn was on the radio, and as Jonathan Davis sang longingly of suicide, the cold waters of Tampa Bay were leaping visibly into the warm early-summer air of this second day in January, one molecule at a time. Tampa and St Pete disappeared in wispy fog in broad daylight and overhead sub-tropical cumulus.

I returned to the beach with Disturbed's David Draiman acting both sides of a conversation with God. Powered parachutes droned through the still air, and north of my little town, the Met-Life blimp was launching itself upward over the water. The bay is full of boats and fishermen, but I have to finish the workday. If it wasn't Friday, I wouldn't be able to take it, especially after hooky yesterday.

Dinner tonight, something I'm greatly looking forward to. Golf tomorrow, something I haven't done in over a year.