Nothing ever happens

The odd sunny half-day notwithstanding, we kept being plagued by gloomy January days. Even on those days when it wasn't raining for a change, the sky was a thick blanket of dull washed-out grey. Days like these tend to knit themselves together into a blur of time in which nothing really happens. Or so it seems, anyway. I've been keeping a journal since April 2020, jotting down my thoughts and the things I've done in order to keep track of time and disentangle the blur. Lately, however, it often slips my mind to make an entry at the end of a day and then find it impossible to recollect how I spent my time. As I've always prided myself on having the memory of an...