"Well it's Groundhog Day. Again."

Every day is a new day is a casual fiction that we tell ourselves. We can break with our pasts and our futures, and light the fuse on our presents and—hey presto—off we go. I don't know about that. The past is a mystery and the future is history and today is a graft.

"There is no way that this winter is ever going to end as long as this groundhog keeps seeing his shadow. I don't see any other way out. He's got to be stopped. And I have to stop him."

I'm not quite sure I ever had a plan for where I was going to take this mess of words.

I love middle age. Before I can finish saying "I can't believe it's Monday already" it's Thursday. Time is loaded into a cannon and the guy lighting the fuse doesn't even wait for you to get out of the way.

Outside of a traumatic experience, we get to wake up connected to the past and the future. Every day is a new day, but only if you don't examine it closely. It looks an awful lot like the day before, and the day before that. That's not the worst thing (love the process, keep pushing things forward) unless you're just coasting to a halt.

Every day is a slightly new day, maybe—you can tell it's not factory-new because it doesn't have that new day smell. Someone has been driving this day. Was it you? Maybe if you had to slightly change one small thing on your slightly new day, spend a little time behind the wheel yourself. Drive it into the quarry for all I care, but drive it.