Christ, the bleak of January has hit me hahdah than Britney hitting the floor on New Year's Eve.
Seriously. January is teh suck.
The black nothing between now and Truck Day bunched in us like a bat.
This is the time of nothing doing.
This is the time of hanging on for the bees — the bees …
The "Britney hitting the floor" line is lifted from this post at Dlisted.com.
Meanwhile, the remaining dialog (and title) for today is pieced together from bits of Sylvia Plath's poem "Wintering."
The imagery, of course, is fitting for this time of year for Red Sox fans, when there is no news and baseball and Spring seems so distant, but, more than that, I really like how the "This is the time of hanging on for the bees" line can be read as meaning not just "bees" as in the honey making buzz buzzers but also as the "B's" that adorn the Red Sox caps. For both bee and B are harbingers of Spring and all that comes with it.