Back to the salt mines

Or back to phone tag, which rates about the same in my book. Trying to get hold of the Code Enforcement guy at city hall, find out what he wants on that bridal boutique project. Left message Friday, no call back. Okay, maybe he took the afternoon off. But this is not a game I play willingly or well.

Did get actual money from the twice-yearly royalty report via Nice Agent Lady, proving that all is not dead in the author gig. Money is good. Money encourages authors to engage nose with grindstone, or some such metaphor. Ass to chair, fingers to keys, whatever. Still rather depressed in that direction, though. Haven't added a word to POWERS in weeks, while my writer-brain resets POV from first to tight-third narration.

Cloudy and windy outside, temperatures around freezing. Some crocus blooms emerged valiant from the receding snowbanks by the foundation, but may regret the loss of cover.

Heard an optimistic mockingbird testing a few trills this morning.