thirdfloor apartment sways in high wind

The Ides say “Daylight Savings Time” and the rain says it’s almost spring. (The crocuses’ tiny heads are poking out of flowerboxes, but we’re trying not to jinx it by noticing.) We’re on month seven; Boston is more than halfway over. Halfway through March is two weeks to April is how quickly things have been going lately. Wasn’t Valentine’s Day just, like, last week?

My job is stupid but I’ve been doing a lot of it; I’ve written three or four partial essays for this blog but have concentrated instead on not going crazy in the long Northeast winter. This involves a lot of painting and it involves a lot of drinking: neither of these things being particularly conducive to writing essays, you understand.

February is always the worst month, so I appreciate that it is also the shortest.


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