where wildly different is perfectly normal
It’s not Leap Day, it’s Pre-March
It’s not Leap Day, it’s Pre-March

It’s not Leap Day, it’s Pre-March

I’ve decided that I’m not going to recognize today’s arbitrary quadrennial tally-up, and instead have declared it Pre-March. It is not post-February, it is not yet March, it is Pre-March. A day not on the calendar but existing every bit as much as the aforementioned arbitrary quadrennial tally-up. I am celebrating the end of my least favorite twelfth of a year and moving on.

The sun is shining down on me, melting those piles of snow at which I cursed so heartily on Friday. The temperatures are skipping towards 50 degrees today, the highest they’ve been this year. I have made my first pitcher of lightly sweetened peach-infused iced tea (needs a titch more agave nectar next batch), and this afternoon I will be ordering my summer supply of the best margarita mix on the planet. Life is good.

This Pre-March afternoon I shall sip my iced tea and gaze out at the sodden yard. I will also jump into the dozen or so things on my to-do list that are trying to kill me; it is not quite lovely enough to ignore it all.

But February is over, March has not yet begun. It is simply Today.


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