There are only twenty-eight days this month because nobody would make it to February 31st. I’m flailing and it’s only the 2nd.
February is the shopping equivalent of trying on bathing suits. It’s the grooming equivalent of a Brazilian wax. It’s like being stuck in the center seat on an airplane between two drunks on their way to Mardi Gras.
It’s the month when I research:
- cruises to the Caribbean,
- property in Florida and/or
- military schools.
Last year I found an ad in the back of Southern Living for Fork Union Military Academy, or FUMA. I threatened my kids with that all year. Thank you, FUMA. You got a lot of math done at my house.
This year I think my younger ones figured out they are safe because FUMA won’t take little girls. Discrimination, I say! Some military discipline will whip these rug rats into shape. Fifth graders these days are too soft.
Here’s something to get you through the next few weeks. Ahhh! Oh, pool boy, bring me a frosty cold beverage. And file my taxes while you are at it.
What’s going on in your neck of the woods? Dug out yet? If it’s sunny and warm, please tell me so I can live vicariously through you.