Dear Wigleaf,

I'm writing to you from the couch where I sit trying to get my television to work. It seems like a Wi-Fi problem. Does that mean the signal? Or maybe the connection. I think those are different things. Anyway. I'll have to go down to the basement and look at the router.

I went to the basement and looked at the router. Four little green lights were on. I unplugged it and then replugged it. Same lights. Still nothing. That's about all I can do.

Now I'm writing you from a café. The Wi-Fi here is good. It's winter, as you know. February. When I walked in, the owner's dog wagged her tail but she didn't get up from her little bed in the corner. I got an espresso and some kind of French bun. The girl behind the counter is studying chemistry. Her textbook was open to a picture of molecules. From what I remember, they're always trying to achieve stability. They want to share, gain, or lose atoms. Busy, busy. Looking, looking.

On my way here I saw one of my neighbors outside her house. She was kicking ice off her driveway with her boots. It made me wonder if she didn't own a shovel. Or maybe she just came outside to test the weather. She reminded me of being a kid in the winter. Her hands were bare, no hat. When I passed she looked up but her eyes seemed lost in some other thought.

I think this weather makes everyone seem farther away than they really are. I miss you. I wonder what's on your mind. What you've been doing. It doesn't matter if it's nothing. I really want to know.

Write back, ok?

-Jeff