Well, I'm glad that's over with.
Jeez, if there’s one month every year that tries to bend you over the table and nail you in the poopshoot without at least offering to buy you dinner first, it’s March. March sucks. Every. Single. Year. Have you ever had a good March? Well, that’s just some sort of weird statistical anomaly, or maybe one large Opposite Sketch, because believe you me, Mr. Man, March is pretty awful.
Predictably, this year was no exception. Now, don’t get me wrong… nothing really unspeakably terrible happened. No one died or spontaneously combusted or contracted a mysterious terminal illness or anything. In the grand scheme of things, it was all just little to mid-sized annoyances. But that’s how March always works. It never comes at you in a big, nasty, Skeletor-esque master plan of ultimate evil. It’s just bits and pieces of smidgeons of evil, whittling away your confidence and happiness in teeny tiny increments for 31 straight days. So not only is March a bad month, but it’s also an annoying, malicious little prick with entirely too much spare time on its hands.
This year’s list of March related grievances? Glad you asked. Let’s see… Erin had a stomach virus for about two weeks and some change, Liam was cranky from the special sort of pain that only teething can provide, we had to replace the car that we had previously believed was the good one, I blew not one but two – count ‘em TWO – job interviews (that I was totally qualified for and would’ve led to more money and a much more family-friendly schedule), Erin was on the receiving end of all sorts of crap from a committee she’s involved with because she was getting too much work done, I was informed that I'm now on the list for potential state grand jury selection for an entire year, and the hot water heater saw fit to bestow upon me almost two tolerably warm showers (though, admittedly, that may be an improvement; me and the hot water heater have some issues with each other).
So as I said, yeah, nothing really unspeakably awful, but little things heaped upon you all month long tends to increase irritation levels at an exponential rate. So I’m not at all upset to see March segue into April. April is good. I like April. The weather gets nicer, baseball starts up for real, and at the end of the month, I get my birthday, which usually means cake, presents, and money. I really enjoy cake, presents, and money a whole lot. And after enduring March every year, I feel like I really earn them.
Next year, though, I’m gonna tackle March in a new way. I think I’ll have everyone I know line up and kick me in the sack on March 1st. I think one day of intense pain, followed by a day or two of lingering discomfort, may be a little easier to take than an entire month of it’s metaphoric equivalent.