Snowfall on Sunday, crapfall on Monday.

Sunday night was rather peaceful. I was out for a while with the dogs, and it was snowing, and after they played around and did various and sundry, the three of us sat on the porch. No one was around. It wasn't too cold. It was dark, the white flakes scattering the light everywhere, so quiet and at ease. 

I of course was too worried about things to enjoy it. I'm not the kind of person who finds peace in nature. If I'm completely bollixed up internally, you could put me on a resort island and all I'd think about was the sunburn I was doomed to get and who's breaking into my house while I'm here.

Monday morning the snow had stopped and it was still very pleasant. 

As nice as winter can be, really. The snow only amounted to a couple of inches; warming was due so no need to shovel. And I still was going nuts. 

Why? Money, mainly; why else? Even my new Batman sticky notes couldn't help me out of this jam. Being a freelance editor means surviving on a multitude of small payments, but publishers don't mind if they pay you late. It bothers them not in the least. They can relax and take it easy over the holiday season. However, my utility companies and credit card issuers and mortgage company have a thing about it. It makes them antsy. Furthermore, I faced my desk Monday with no assignments. I'd worked over the holidays to get things done on deadline -- in one case, as it turned out, the publisher who had to have a book in by December 30 hasn't even downloaded the transfer yet. Which means my invoice hasn't been downloaded, either. And no one has been generating anything for me to work on when I need the dough the most. 

Normally this is not so bad, but with last year's furloughs and medical bills it is quite a bit bad right now. Plus, I have a tax bill due on the 15th! Hooray!

On top of that, a guy rings the doorbell Monday morning and scares the hell out of the dogs. He is standing on the walkway and there are several trucks on the street. He says nothing about his purpose, but I know what it is: These are the men come to lay new cable for the phone company, which is tired of being irrelevant and wants to become a rival to the cable company. This will mean ripping up my front lawn along the sidewalk. I knew the job was going to happen but was given no warning that it would start this week, let alone Monday.

"You have electric dog?" he asks. 

English is not his first language. It may not be his third or fourth.

Electric... what?

After some gesticulating it gets through my pre-coffee mind that he wants to know if we have an electric dog fence. I start to explain that we do, but that the guy who installed it gave big dog Tralfaz a hotspot while shaving his neck, and my wife was disturbed by the fact that junior dog Nipper would just keep ignoring the warning sound from the collar despite the training and getting shocked, and... So yes, we do, but we're not using right now. Sorry.

"Okay," and off he goes. No word on whether they're going to be careful or just chop the circuit line to pieces.

The highlight of the day was rushing out to the mailbox to see if the USPS had delivered some nice, fat checks. They did not. They delivered nothing. I suspect the mailman looked at the crew working on the street and said, "Oh, well, too much trouble to get through that," and drove away. 

I don't want to be mean, though. He may have just had a hangover and called in sick.

Thus, soft white snow, hard dark mood. Hoping for a shinier day Tuesday. Hope your year is off to a better start.