So yesterday, that damn rodent stuck his head out of the ground and informed us lowly bipeds that we're in for 6 more weeks of winter. And then, f*ck me running, several inches of snow fell from the ground that VERY night! If that don't beat all! When I heard about our good friend, Phil finding his shadow and dooming us to six more weeks of teeth chattering, digit numbing, scrotum shrinking hell, I was at once wishing that Phil would find his shadow at the bottom stew pot! Six more weeks of this? C'mon!
But, that minor outrage was replaced by a sobering reality; I'm a 35 year old man. I am really young BUT, old enough to embrace Latin.
Tempus Fugit.
I have found myself using the above statement more and more lately. Case in point, the link I just laid down in the last sentence. I could've sworn that that entry was made three months ago. That was almost a year ago. When I was a kid, my mother used to ask me what day it was. "Silly Mommy", I'd think to myself. She doesn't even know the day of the week; I'm hip to the game now. I'm almost certain that it's Wednesday and tomorrow's Thursday. The proof of this fact isn't that elusive. What is elusive is trying to remember what I had for lunch on Sunday. Or, how is that the man that I elected to serve as President of the United States of America, has been in office for a year and some change? Katrina was HOW many years ago? That Playboy Playmate was born in 1990??? My nephew's five???
Questions like these plague me every, single day. So, on this day in history, I can say that I PRAY for six weeks of anything! Six weeks is a drop in the bucket and before I know it, I'm going to be complaining about swamp @$$, mosquitoes and how mini shorts seem to keep getting shorter.
Do your worst, Phil!
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