It's the 7th of March and this morning when I went to my car, the snow squeaked. For God's sake. The snow squeaked and it's only two weeks away from the start of spring. We expect snow in March especially when tournaments start which they did last weekend. But squeaky snow is for January.
I was glad to see this week end. I sat at my desk for a while this afternoon and tried to get my mind around it. Nothing in particular; just it. Life goes too fast.
We're going to watch Ella tomorrow while the men move Regis and Amber from one apartment to another. We got the best end of that stick. I think after you turn 50, it's a rule that you don't have to move anyone. Not even yourself.
My neighbor Mike says it's not good to repress cuss words; it's what causes cancer. That and probably a few other things. I don't mind cussing myself and my own mother says I talk like a sailor. There are worse things.
On to the weekend...
P.S. I just reread this post and noticed that I ended each paragraph with a snappy little sentence. There must be a literary term for that, don't you think?