Listening to: Puccini, Madama Butterfly
Figured I ought to allude to Yeats after yesterday's snarky attack on, what I believe are, irrational beliefs. At this point I guess I should add, "I hope I didn't offend anybody" but that would be disingenuous. If I was trying to be provocative, I would have left the post open to some illusion that I'd discuss the point but the tone of my post left no doubt as to my overall intention to ridicule. I can be shitty like that.
Must be my mood. Within the past 48 hours, two kids have been puking and squirting poop with a prodigiousness previously known only to little squeeky dogs after devouring a box of bon-bons. A reeking mound of laundry has just now come through the final cycle, neglected only because I have been likewise afflicted by the ughyness. Groaning horizontally, lifting my head enough to tell Zeke to get out of the houseplants or please not stand on the coffee table or not to tip his juice on daddy's papers, I did manage to get some running around done. Well, not so much around as a bee-line back and forth to the bathroom.
The weather was cold and rainy, two days of it now. Here in Colorado, we're only accustomed to rain in small doses, usually late in the afternoon and then only for a half hour or so. Two days straight and we're wondering about "end times".
In a few more weeks, we'll be looking at most days in the high 70's and mountainsides in full bloom. Springtime is staging itself for an explosive arrival. Only then, will you wish you were me.