Still cold. So I am remembering a warmer time.
Just three months and five thousand miles ago.
I am always unhappy with March. I am a year older. Winter is supposed to be over, but it isn’t. And it is time to sort out my taxes.
Why am I paying taxes? Some days it feels like I am simply filling the pockets of criminals.
Oliver Wendell Holmes famously said, “Taxes are the price we pay for a civilized society.”
Well. I am not getting my money’s worth.
Today I made my required annual visit to the nurse’s office to prove that I am still alive.
I had to answer all manner of challenging questions: my name, the date, my address, and whether I hold the rail when using the stairs.
Apparently, I am cleared to remain in the Old Bat’s Cave for another year. Provided I continue to pay the rent.
A fairly boring day.
There are many worse things than a boring day.
And tonight’s culinary adventure awaits:
Falafel-Filled Mushroom Caps.
Hard pass.