Auto Pilot

It's below freezing here with a sky that means business (snow business). Birds flit from feeder to roost, keeping warm, I imagine. That's what I'd do if I were a bird.

Instead, I sit in a warm room observing my feathered friends, trying to work up the enthusiasm for a morning walk. Will the temperature rise past 32? That might trigger some movement on my part. Otherwise, I may have to sit a while longer, have another cup of tea.

Absent from the blogosphere for two days, I notice that the entry I thought I'd posted on Christmas Eve never published. Because I scheduled it for December 24, though, its time stamp makes it appear as if I published it on that day.

It's a vote against auto-pilot ... but a vote in favor of time travel. About which more will be said ... in the future.