How the hell did this PMS make it across the freakin border? No photo i.d., no birth certificate, no documentation of any kind from a recognized governmental authority. It must have stowed away in one of the boxes I packed, counting the days. It wrapped itself up in a migraine headache for safe keeping. You know what I just realized don't you, there were two of them in that box. The other one is hiding around here somewhere, waiting with gleeful anticipation for the clock to strike mid-April.
The sun has finally set on what I hope is March's nadir. Because really, if tomorrow is worse, I may kick the dog.
PS. Strike anywhere matches are amazing. They will ignite if simply left, with say 100 boxmates, on top of a wood burning stove.
Monday, March 16, 2009
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