The Cruelest Month

FYI, Mr. T.S. Eliot was wrong—April is NOT the cruelest month.

Have I mentioned before (yes, yez...undoubtedly I have on numerous occasions) that I truly hate the month of January? It’s cold, wet, dark and chock-full of sad anniversaries (TAB’s birthday, our wedding, my friend Holly’s death, my beloved cousin Gary’s death) AND everyone’s taken down their damn Xmas lights so there aren’t any sparkly colorful displays anymore. The light shows are, to my mind, the best thing about the otherwise gloom ridden holiday season.

Today it’s a warm 37º and overcast. PERFECT conditions for a walk—no blinding sun in my ultra light sensitive eyes and the temps are not too cold OR too warm. Fab, except for the fact that it’s currently raining and, later, the temp will drop and the drizzle will turn to snow. Pretty but slippery—not good for those amongst us who are already radically unstable on their pins (ah, that’d be me but you knew that).

I’d seriously consider doing the snowbird thing BUT where would I go and how much would it cost? Florida has always been more than a wee bit nuts but, with Trump and that fascist fuck DeathSantis, the state’s flown clean off the sanity rails. NOT safe.

Instead there’s Cuba, Dominican Republic, Trinidad and Jamaica but I doubt I could afford to stay in a pleasant beachside condo for a couple months in any of those countries. Also, I’m sure I’d be a tad uneasy being so damn far away from MGH (Nf2 central) for such an extended time.

The good news here in soggy, bleak Valhalla is that Saturday and Sunday will be precipitation free. Now that we have Godzilla, a car that doesn’t destroy my spine with every pimple and divot in the road, Ten and I can take a drive down to Nantasket and stroll along the seawall or maybe we could even walk RIGHT on the beach.