You'd hardly believe it's January.  The weatherman says it will hit near 50; all the snow has turned into a slush fest.  The skylights on the roof -- buried in snow a week ago -- are clear but streaked with soot.  I wonder if the tenant below had a flood.
The light on the apartment house across the way is yellow, like an old-fashioned street lamp.  For some reason, it seems particularly bright as the sun starts to rise.  I cracked the blinds so that I could see it, a beacon to the neighborhood, a constant.
I'm debating whether to start my day and the new year, or listen to the news, or just doze in the big maroon chair.  I wonder if what I do now will set the tone for the year.  I wonder if I'm being too categorical.
Happy New Year!
Saturday, January 1, 2011
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