folgha

I hate October.

I have stated elsewhere and not seldom that my family tends to die in October, so that we really do not like what was once the eighth month and is now the tenth. While my brother and I were in band (not at the same time), October ran us ragged with contests and tests and all that goodness. Two years ago, October saw the death of my paternal grandfather. Nearly eighteen years ago, October killed my mother's father. Last year, October gave me mono as a parting shot.

This year it's trying to make my head explode.

Most of my work is done in the middle of October, and that annoys me greatly.

There's nothing for it but to do it.

Dammit.

I still hate October.

There is one good thing about it, though: it ends. And when it ends, it's time for my birthday, which always pleases me greatly. Not because of being older (at least, not until next year, when my insurance rate will go down), but because people give me stuff.

Donations can be sent to Geoffrey B. Elliott, PO Box...