2003-03-18

Well, spring has hit �like Jesus strapped to an atom bomb� (TM Towelphaser). Sunday morning (day of the ill-fated breakfast engagement) I stepped outside to the orgasmic realization that I couldn�t see my breath. Smelling it of course was another matter, as I could have fuelled a mid-sized jet with the alcoholic fumes emanating malevolently from my person, but that�s neither here nor there.

The snow is melting into vast muddy lakes on the sidewalks, and things are generally a bad scene for footwear and any pant cuffs straying below the �Capri� level. However, that extra load of laundry is a small price to pay for the joy of staying outside for longer than two minutes without entering a state of total molecular inactivity. Soon, soon I will enjoy my first beer of the season�on a PATIO! And it will taste sweeter than nectar from the gods! �Until the next day, of course.