Monday, March 1, 2010
There was a fly on my ceiling. I hate flies with the passion I normally reserve for black olives, cottage cheese and waking up at 6 am on a Monday.
It's March 1st. There's still a foot of mushy, dirty, slushy snow on my front lawn, and we haven't seen a temperature over forty degrees in months.
We don't yet have long summer nights, barbeques with friends, sun-bleached hair, watermelon, bare feet or any of the other wonderful things about summer. Yet we have to deal with the flies, the biggest curse of summer months? Something is wrong with this picture.