…and also, I hate shorts.

Despite our recently acquired, and rapidly melting, five inches of snow, I can sense the approach of Spring. It’s somewhat attributable, of course, to the yammerheads on radio and TV, who wasted a fair bit of time over the weekend telling us about the “first day of Spring”, which allegedly occurred yesterday. But I never really feel it’s Spring until it’s time to turn our clocks ahead. I’m sure I’m not alone.

My particular dilemma with our encroaching Spring-iness is the fact that I really have to do something about getting a job. True, my unemployment benefits would carry me through to the end of June if I wanted them to, but honestly. I think a three month vacation is pushing it as it is. So, starting tomorrow, I’m going to get down and dirty about strong-arming somebody into paying me to correct their English. Or just their typing. Either one, really.

Since nobody is answering the phones today at any of your finer Houses of Publishing, I frittered away most of my day hunting for a cheap hotel room for us (sir husband and me) to crash in after the Bowie concert next week in Boston. Of course we could drive home after the show — we only live about an hour and a half away — but I’ve got a hundred dollars that says I get to stumble out of the Fleet Center (blissed out and ears ringing), maybe take the T a couple of stops, then stumble through some posh, chandeliered lobby, up an elevator (many many flights I hope — I love sweeping city views), and into a nifty, self-cleaning hotel room with chocolates on the bed. Yay. As I’ve barely ventured further than the grocery store and post office since getting laid off in December, I am eagerly eagerly anticipating this adventure.

Also, I’ve never been to an “arena” rock concert before. I’ve been to countless outdoor festivals, and — oh yeah — I even OWNED a goddamn live-music nightclub for two years, but I’ve never been to your classic-style, fancy light-show, thousands of people screaming, superstar Rock God kind of show. The closest thing was that huge Phish show I went to way back when (1996?) in Plattsburg. There were something like 100,000 people there, but I’m not counting it because it was outside, it went on for three days, and it involved sleeping in a tent. The Bowie show, I sincerely hope, will be a somewhat more urban outing.

In the meantime, dear hypothetical reader, I do intend to figure out how to do more interesting things on this crazy blog of mine, like use hyperlinks, post pictures, etc. (I know. I’m old and slow. Any day now they’re going to cull me out of the pack.)

You would not believe how geekily excited I was last night when I figured out how to manipulate my first line of code in order to post a couple of links in the margin. I did a little HTML dance of joy.

cha cha cha!

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