The house is quiet.
I’ve just come back from dropping off the baby and then did a quick spring-is-coming loading-up at the local hardware store/venerable institution: the one place in God’s green earth where you can probably find anything your heart desires, or at least everything your heart ever wanted to fix around the house.
I have two everything-resistant violas waiting happily –gorgeous combinations of pale lavender and white, and purple and orange respectively– for me to give them a home.
So, why do I have of all songs that could ever be stuck in my head, Mary J. Blige’s "I’m Goin’ Down"?
Seriously, what did I do wrong?
I’m not sure what to make of this whole February polydiurnalism thing.
February 29th sounds so very poetic and mythical and strange— why do we need an extra day, even as astronomical compensation, but only every four years?
What’s so magical about that four anyway? And why am I not enjoying myself today as much as I think I should be?
Why do I miss Herr Meow?
Why are the violas not planted yet?
Why is it still winter?
Why is it still February?
Did you know, ye salaried masses, that you’re working a full day without pay today?
Did you know that one of my favorite songs ever is called "9-9"?
Why don’t I share a pretty, hopeful picture, shut the hell up, go eat something, and wrap this up?
Say hello to my leetle catmint friends!
Um. Happy March?