I've never liked March.
Never.
One March I was in NYC for college basketball finals and it was sooooo cold and windy that it was like taking flight across the arctic without an airplane.
One March I was in Chicago and it was soooo blustery (with horizontal snow) that it made Anchorage seem balmy (and yes, I've been to Anchorage).
One March I was in Minneapolis and, well . . . I never left the hotel.
March is wildly unpredictable and full of menacing threats. And no, it doesn't come in like a lion and leave like a lamb. In these parts it's usually way more lion than lamb, even into April.
March is a thief, a back-stabbing betrayer, a bitch-slapping phony. March is a fraud.
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