In the part of the country I call home, it’s now winter.  On the way home from work yesterday I stopped to fill up my car ($1.65 a gallon!) and it was definitely COLD!  And dark.  With some snow on the ground.  Those three together at the same time always adds up to winter.   Not my favorite season; in fact, it’s probably 4th or 5th on my list of favorite seasons.   

The building I work in has been sold, and we all have to be out by the end of the month.  Everyone’s sorting through their stuff, throwing away, packing up, etc.  The first things to go were all the paintings on the walls, which I thought odd.  I would’ve guessed unused furniture, extra computers, or unproductive employees.  But instead, all our walls are naked.  Were they afraid we’d think to ourselves, “We’re vacating the premises; quick–grab the paintings!”?  Most of them were really not that good.  Now as I’m walking down the stairs, I can no longer tell what floor I’m on; those paintings were my landmarks.  The Hawaiian cliff overlooking the ocean meant the first floor, the unattractive splash of formless color meant the second, etc.  If I never find my floor again, it’s not my fault.

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