I was thinking as I swam this morning of the different forms applied to residents of a city, such as (my favourites), Glaswegians for those who live in Glasgow and Haligonians for citizens of Halifax. (Note: my Spelcheck never heard of that one.) Then there's Vancouverites for people in Vancouver, and Winnipeggers (Winnipegosians for Winnipegosis)?), Edmontonians, Torontonians and Montrealers. But who lives in St. John or St.John's? San Franciscans, sure, but what do we call Los Angelians? (Aliens?) Are all the people in Texas merely Texans? I guess Houstonites and San Antonians are okay but what about the people who live in Dallas or Austen? It's fine for New Yorkers and Bostonians but Minneapolites? Londoners and Dubliners are easy but I never heard of Belfasters. That must be right, though; look at Berliners. Do the good people of Frankfort get called hot dogs? I finished my swim and went on to other profound thoughts. Maybe Wikipedia can help, but feel free.

Life doesn't get any simpler, does it? More complicated, in fact. I sort of know what I want to get done each day but then I have to rely on my body, not to get too tired, and other people, not to make absurd requests, and the weather, to make everything possible, or at least pleasant. Everyone around me is waiting, not so patiently, for warm weather, for spring to arrive. "It's the waiting," someone said to me this morning. (Bleakly.) But we live in hope, ready to pounce on a sunbeam when it shines. In the meantime, we wait.

I should be grateful for the excuse, no, the necessity, to stay indoors and get lots of work done. but I don't feel like working. I have lots of thoughts crowding in and demanding consideration, but I'd have to muster enough energy to write them down. I don't feel like it.

Eating is not an acceptable alternative. Neither is sleeping, past a certain point. Swimming is good but I've done that. Walking is even better but I don't feel like it. Reading, okay. I just finished a book at one of my venues, and must assimilate it for a little while (half an hour?). I started a new one yesterday afternoon in the exercise room (on the recumbent bicycle, convenient for holding a book while I pedal), and it's waiting for me, later today.

Well, I've said it before and I'll say it again: this is not a blog, it's a bleat.

Steve Jobs would not be happy with me.