I was scrapping scrambled egg crud out of a cast iron frying pan tonight and when I looked down what I saw was a scrapper removing wax and klister from a skinny ski.
Zeus, didn't I miss winter this year? I suffer from an abhorrent form of seasonal affective disorder this time of year when we have a full on bon hiver. This year is it is plainly a searing, festering affliction. My wounds have experienced the soothing balm of red-winged black bird's chirlee song, yet I know, my recovery will be protracted.
No comments:
Post a Comment