My own personal time zone
Excuse me if I’m an hour late, or possibly early, for that thing we have lined up today. Neither of the clocks in my home office sprung forward last Sunday morning to usher me into, or possibly out of, daylight savings time. My computer, which runs Linux Mint and is set to be adjusted manually, stayed in winter time. So did the La Crosse time and temperature thingamahoo which beams the time onto my ceiling. This has revealed to me two things: Time is relative and also, I’m kind of a nerd.

A nice winter breeze (and some arachnids)
At the risk of inflicting a super duper extra ultra fugly kind of jinx upon you good people, I’ve got to ask: Is this the easiest winter we’ve ever had? I mean, unless we get walloped by a half-dozen blizzards over the next few weeks followed by a rain of red-eyed, dagger-toothed ice spiders or something, this was about as smooth as it gets. Come on, 65 degrees on March 9? We’re practically Malibu.

Creepy creepy, crawly crawlies
Hey, those dagger-toothed ice spiders aren’t real, are they? Because they sound horrifying. Wish I hadn’t brought it up. Can you check my back? I feel there’s something on my back.

Fiddlesticks
Well, it’s that time of year, my potty-mouth friends, when I put forth a valiant effort to quit swearing once and for all. I sometimes hate myself for the frequency and intensity of my cussing, which has reached a level where I’m inventing an impressive three new cuss word combinations daily. I’m confident I can give it up, though, because this time I intend to employ a number of swearing substitution words I can unleash when I stub my toe, see what the weather is like outside, arrive at the grocery store before realizing I’ve forgotten my wallet, get hit with a weather story, get hit with a school committee story or get cut off in traffic. I’ll also need a super duper extra powerful swear word I can use each morning when it’s time to get out of bed. Mornings, I’m pretty sure, are why swearing was invented in the first place.