In like a lion, out like one

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sasha
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Joined: April 12th, 2016, 12:01 pm
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In like a lion, out like one

Post by sasha » March 16th, 2019, 3:29 pm


I hate March. Oh, sure, it contains the official beginning of spring, but winter has a way of hanging on like a bad cold. Days might see temps near 50, but nights can still drop into the single digits. And when all that ice starts to melt, the unpaved roads some of us live on turn into soup. There's a reason that we call this time of year "mud season". When everything is frozen solid, we're apt to forget just how much water is safely locked up in all that ice. Meltwater is like the deferred taxes on a 401k - March is when they come due. Time to pay up, bro. Forget keeping your shoes, your car, your floors clean - Mud invades the domicile like the mice do in the fall.

Kane and I walk here most mornings...
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...sometimes he doesn't poop until we've gone a mile. And then, naturlich, it's a mile back. So we get to wade through this slop twice.

When he isn't strolling through the mud itself, he's apt to be walking atop the snowbanks, though he doesn't walk "atop" them as much as "in" them. The snow is soft, now, and he sinks in it up to his belly. Take a closer look at them...
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...these are not the pristine winter wonderland snowbanks of January, oh no - these are the mucky dregs of March. His legs and undercarriage are brown before we've traveled 1/3 mile. And we typically have at least twice that far to go before we turn back. Homecoming consists of: removing my shoes; removing his harness; filling a dishpan with warm soapy water, another with fresh; finding at least four clean washcloths; ushering him into the bathroom & shutting the door; wiping down his port side with soapy water (washcloth #1), rinsing with fresh (#2); convincing him to face the opposite way, and repeating the scrub down on his starboard with washcloths 3 & 4; toweling him off best I can; telling him "okay!" in a happy voice & releasing him; and covering the bed with beach towels.

Then and only then can I even contemplate breakfast, with that most important component of the most important meal of the day, Coffee.

And if we go out in the afternoon... we get to do it all over again. Except I'm apt to substitute spiced rum for the coffee.

Jesus on a Segway, I hate March.

Only April is worse - not the cruelest month for the reasons Elliot gives, but because the IRS (and now the Commonwealth of Massachusetts) come a-calling, my car's inspection and registration are due, as are all of Kane's vaccinations. And my odometer clicks over another 584 million miles as I complete yet another lap around the sun. (Just did some rough calculations - in my lifetime I've traveled more than 40 BILLION miles - that's over 10 times as far the New Horizons spacecraft is from Earth right now. I think that entitles me to frequent flier miles, don't you?)
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I'm not an outlier. I just haven't found my distribution yet.

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