The anti-Valentine’s Day rants have begun. Maybe I’ll have enough bile burble-ing up to spit out a screed of my own this week, maybe not. My bet’s on not.
Speaking of not having any bile; my second online anniversary passed over the weekend without any commentary on my part. Sure, I had planned a big anniversary post full of wit and wisdom but having gone from a state of near perfect happiness and relaxation over the weekend to my typical sour headed attitude after only seven hours in hell I’ve no wit or wisdom left to proffer.
Hooray. There are only three days left this week. I’ve treated myself to a short week next so I can get the maximum enjoyment out of sliding down a snow-covered mountain on a sheet of waxed fiberglass and other composite materials. Then there’s the Harlem Globetrotters, a trip to Beantown and a possible visit to the Big Easy to look forward to. Not to mention it’s just a bit more than a month to St. Patrick’s Day.
Life could be better. But it usually isn’t.