March has finally arrived, and not a minute too soon.
As Februarys go, and they usually go pretty dismally, this one was one of the worst ever. Consider the numbers:
28: The number of days in the month; it’s not leap year, thank goodness.
10 or 12: About the number of days when it was too cold for human beings to go outside.
1: The number of days this human being went outside when he should not have. 2.5: The number of hours stranded in the ice waiting for a wrecker.
A multitude: The number of people who stopped to offer assistance for the above.
2: The number of people required to change a tire on an icy street when the temperature is about 12 degrees and a 20 mile-per-hour wind is howling—one to change the tire and one (me) to hold the light.
5: Number of minutes it took me to get home after the tire was fixed.
Zero: the number of work days missed because of snow.
6 or 7: About the number of days when human beings actually should have gone outside and charged up for those others that were too nasty to venture out the door.
1.75: The number of days spent doing yard work, reluctantly.
11: My grandson’s birthday, Feb. 11, best day of the month.
14: The day invented by card, candy and flower companies.
9: The coldest temperature for the month/year to date/since I’ve been in Texas.
80: Or so, the warmest day of the month, 71 degrees warmer than the coldest day. Go figure.
1.5: Number of days spent pursuing trout with a fly rod.
3: Number of excellent trout landed during the month.
28: Number of days spent dreaming about pursuing excellent trout with a fly rod.
11: Number of months left until I have to endure another February.