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getting to work in the snow, darkly

the journal of Michael Werneburg

twenty-seven years and one million words

Toronto, 2018.01.08

The fates just didn't want me getting to the office, today: I woke with a head cold, in a power outage, as the snow sheeted down. Instead I went to the clinic, then worked from home for the day. The power outage wasn't at our actual home, it'd just knocked out the TTC between my home and office.

It must be January.

rand()m quote

Remove everything that has no relevance to the story. If you say in the first chapter that there is a rifle hanging on the wall, in the second or third chapter it absolutely must go off. If it's not going to be fired, it shouldn't be hanging there.

—Anton Chekhov