Dear March

Hi ya, Third Month:

I thought we'd play nice this year, but we're not off to a good start.

Starting the month with a nasty cold and a rough voice will do that.

Since midnight, which is around the time I took Nyquil to -- you know -- make me sleep, my phone has buzzed like the middle of the day.

The topics were things like staplers, radio talk, and Scott-freaking-Smalls from The Sandlot.

Yes.

Really.

I cringe every time Smalls gets that ball from his stepdads office. #TheSandlot pic.twitter.com/aIzPyuceoZ

— Rob Adams (@double5) March 1, 2020

As you know,  I've never done illegal drugs, but after that conversation, I'm wondering if someone spiked my cheap coffee that I'm now out of.

Oh, and of course, what would good ol' March be without a reminder of the very thing that makes March so Marchy?

You betcha! Good ol' Erin go Bragh! Because nothing sets the tone for March like knowing St. Patrick's Day is coming up. That was a wakeup call like a right to the chin from Sean Thornton in The Quiet Man which, you might know, plays mightily in the theme of debauchery.

Let's face it, the ultimate scene ends up, where? A pub? What are the odds?

It tasted about as good as a skunky, warm Budweiser in Dublin, doncha know?

It didn't used to be like this, ol' March. We saw you as an opportunity to rise above the morose of the month. I wish I could figure out what happened.

It used to be that I'd make myself do something good and that probably needs to start again.

Baseball is here (and will be officially on by the time we're done this year). March Madness is approaching. Spring is a-springing (soon). Maybe we can rally. We've got 31 days to figure this out, I suppose.

Considering I got punched in the gut for the (third? fourth? fifth?) time this week I feel like I can only pull myself up so many more times.

I keep trying to figure it out. I've p*ssed a lot of people off, I guess.

It might be time for new highways. New opportunities.

We'll start with a new day. A new week. Tomorrow. March 2.

Anyway, we'll deal.

We have no choice.

March on!