Even though I know that Spring is still three weeks away, the first of March always makes me think that Spring is coming. In addition to "Willa Time" (my alarm clock is always set nine minutes ahead of the actual time), there's, I don't know -- the "Willa Year," maybe, in which Winter is December/January/February, Spring is March/April/May, Summer is June/July/August and Autumn is September/October/November. It just makes sense to me.
It was apparently 71 degrees out yesterday, or at least that's what Bob told me this morning. I wouldn't know, since I didn't leave the basement. But today it must be in the 30s, and we were having snow flurries this morning. I went out at noon and took a quick walk down the block to the mailbox, and it was so windy that it felt like the middle of winter. Which I guess, technically, it still is.
Not much of any import going on around here lately. Both Bob and I have been working a lot; but it's interesting--the times that we are home together have become a little more precious, since they're so much more rare. We've actually sat down at the dining table and eaten dinner together a couple of nights recently, and sat down together and watched television. There have been a few nights when we haven't seen each other at all--he sometimes comes home after I'm already asleep. Pyewacket has taken to sitting on my lap in the evenings, something she almost never does, and Dinah is, if anything, more affectionate and clingy than usual.
I guess we're all kind of finding our way in changing circumstances.