I suppose I should get around to the new year of 2022.  Our eve was quiet and non-eventful, the way we prefer it.

Outside, the world continues to hustle and hurtle around in a materialistic panic, carelessly infecting each other with the latest variant, getting stranded for days in chilling traffic pile-ups on highways and at airports, while the climate itself goes crazy.  One day it’s freakishly warm, the next it’s colder than frozen hell, while the actual poles are alarmingly melting.  It’s like humanity wants to kill itself off, and doing a pretty good job of it.

The last two years seem like one big blur of extreme changes yet sameness.  A lot has happened to turn our worlds upside down, while we seem to be frozen in stasis or even reversing direction away from progress.  Sometimes I’m not sure which century we’re still in.  But that’s just me.  Maybe it’s mind-freeze.  It’s hard to think or be optimistic in this cold.

Here is Misu the Gargoyle on the highest shelf in my office, trying to stay warm.  Cats are one of the most sentient species I know.  They know how to live.