It snowed today, and then, afterwards, it rained. But first it snowed. Which means that winter's knocking on the door. I'm not about to open up, but someone will eventually, because there are people out there who actually like winter. With the snow, the ice, and the cold. In our language, we call them "insane".

Two more days and the craziness should be over, heralding a return to the Blogging of past. Yes, I've said that before, and I've been wrong, but there's definitely light at the end of the tunnel, and it's not an approaching train.

It is, however, quite true what William Gibson wrote recently, in his (now retired) weblog:

"I’ve found blogging to be a low-impact activity, mildly narcotic and mostly quite convivial, but the thing I’ve most enjoyed about it is how it never fails to underline the fact that if I’m doing this I’m definitely not writing a novel. The image that comes most readily to mind is that of a kettle failing to boil because the lid’s been left off."

I'm not about to do anything as dramatic as shutting this journal down because, hey, enjoying it way too much. But there are certainly times, such as this, when regular Blogging interferes with the "real" writing. And I can't afford that. So consequently, sometimes - hopefully not too often - the journal will suffer.

Tomorrow: Reader mail. Because it's so much easier when you do the writing for me. So keep those e-mails coming, people. And we'll get through the dry patches together. Like a team.

Go team! Yes.  ¶ 00:08