March 1st is a fine day. It is a day of days. It is a wonderful day. It marks the psychological end of winter.
It is the day you finally decide to call the cops to remove that obnoxious drunk from your house. You know he’s not going to go quietly. You know he’s going to break a lamp or two on the way out. But you also know that he will soon be GONE.
Watching the news on TV the way I do, I often see that New York is buried in snow. I am in New York and my Facebook friends worry about me. They needn't. It depends upon where in New York you are, for much snowfall is determined by your location relative to one of the Great Lakes across which winds blow. In Rochester, due south of Lake Ontario, we have had remarkably little snow, and what snow there has been melts quickly. But if I were in the Tug Hill Plateau, east – southeast of Lake Ontario, or the Amhearst area, due east of Lake Erie, I would have offed myself many times over by now.
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