This is weird. The night before last it was raining, sleeting, snowing. About 35 degrees out. And today it's a balmy 72.

A couple weeks ago, when the temperature dipped down into the thirties, I got depressed and had started to write: "I'd forgotten about the cold. Forgotten how it descends upon you like a bully who's got a hold of your collar and won't let go until spring."

Only I'm glad I didn't keep writing, because it turns out not to be true. The real thing I forgot about the weather in New England was that it abides by no calendar, has the short term memory of Tommy Chong, can change personalities faster, even, than Courtney Love.


PS: In accordance with our current priorities, the topic of this blog will be gradually shifting from the process of house-buying to that of baby-making. Please pardon our appearance during this transitional phase. With luck, the new topic should prove considerably more entertaining than the last.