Thirty days hath September…

It is 45° outside my home, kind of chilly for the merry month of May, or whatever they choose to call it next week. When it actually is the month of May, merry or otherwise.

“At least it’s not 8°,” I point out to my wife, hopefully helpfully but failing in both regards. There is not hope in 45°, and it does not help to bring up 8°.

I have the Sunday Shows to watch and review.

Cut the damn camera.