Ah, spring, where the weather is good again, and everyone seems a little more happy and a little more beautiful.

It's been a productive holiday weekend, getting things cleaned around he house, watching a lot of DVDs and getting outside in the sun.

Occasionally, things have flitted into my head to journal about, but nothing sticking enough to remember by the time I get to the keyboard to type. Distractions abound, breaking any sort of concentration for writing. Maybe it's a sign that there's actually nothing worth talking about.

Yet, still the compulsion to journal remains, even if it's incredibly boring.

No sign of the bird today, so I'm assuming he could fly and flew away. I'd rather not consider any more unpleasant alternatives.

Oh well, time for sleep.