The grey and the cold, unrelenting. It does things to the hopeful April mood, doesn't it? Grinds it down and planes it smooth. There's a few things you can do: go to dial-tone mode and ride it out. Or make some plans! Give yourself something to anticipate! Check off all those boxes on the to-do list!

Well, I checked one. "Submit column."

When I put up the banner image above - best from a rote series of weekly images - I = realized I've seen everything in the picture go up, except for the parking ramp and the apartment building in the distant middle. This was Minneapolis in 1978 or so:

I didn't get downtown today, and it made all the difference in the day's mood. No sun, no warmth, no motion, no other places and other people. No elevator ding!

Of course, the elevators don't ding anymore. I noticed this the other day: no ding to precede the car's arrival. As a good citizen I went to the front desk to let them know, although I was quite sure they knew, and I knew why they knew. All the elevators are being overhauled, because the building is 25 years old. I talked to a crew the other day. It's a three-year job, they said. At the same time another crew is redoing the hot-water system in the service core.

I wonder what occupancy will be like at the end of all this.

Anyway, yes, they knew about the silence of the dings. Great, figured you did! Just wanted to be a good citizen.

Somehow I became oddly protective of the building during the Great Evacuation. As if it would go away if I didn't show up. As if it would float off or shimmer and vanish if there weren't enough people who wanted to be there.

Some fun from the Planet Coaster joint I'm building: Looks like the ride was too fast, and G-forces melded everyone together.

It's rather horrifying, really.

It's like a really cheerful vision of Hell:

This is probably how the outside world seems to some people who've been working from home for two years.

The Firehouse is mostly done. No sign of activity on the rest of the block.

I thought this old dullard would be down by now. A week later, it's not finished.

I'm sure it's on schedule anyway. They probably have the opening day brochures for new apartment printed already. The weekly sweep . . .

Sunday Lance to end the week. There's been a robbery at the jeweler's, as usual

Of course he's guilty! He's old, short, and physically unattractive.

Solution, which is painfully obvious, is here.

From an episode of Quiet Please, one of the best “unusual story” anthology shows of the medium. I’d say the best, period, because it avoided all the gory shocks and gong-strike moments of Arch Obeler’s stuff.

This is a recorded tape of an experiment, and the narrator is playing it for us, interrupting occasionally to draw our attention to a particular detail. This excerpt has the narrator and his assistant documenting their work, with a little levity.

People of the day would get the reference. Do you?

This year we're counting down the top hits . . . of 1922. Why not?

There's almost nothing about this fellow. Edwin Dale.

Sometimes we hear a tune that strikes a modern chord a hundred years later, and we could imagine enjoying it if we'd been around back then.

This isn't one of them. At least for me. Interesting modalities, as they say, but it's just annoying. To me.

Before micro-targeted playlists, there were wide formats. Very wide.

That will do. See you Monday, and I hope it's sunny where you are.