This can be a funny time of year. Not funny-ha-ha; funny like Election Day, or hemorrhoids, or ten thousand spoons when all you need is a knife.
OK, winter, we get it: you’re stronger than us. You dang near broke Boston. March came in like a lion and out like a friggin’ manticore. Yes, you’re stronger than us. You’re stronger…but we’re cuter. And scrappier. And we have much, much better musical taste.
I thought I knew about the blues. I thought I wasn’t wild about the blues. Now I think I was a dunderhead.
It’s over, homies. The worst of winter. The chalky cavalcade of Conversation Hearts. The days without daffodils. And your wait for the cats’ monthly wrap-up.
Now is not the winter of our discontent. Now is not yet the triumphal procession towards spring. Now is the holy roll of ordinary time at Tabby’s Place.