It’s March. When I was in elementary school, March always meant it was time to break out the green, pink and yellow construction paper and make happy spring junk. I usually would do a rabbit devouring a flower that was shrieking in pain, and eventually the teacher would refuse to give me more red construction paper. Today, March meant walking home in binary digits.
As I was pulling into my apartment’s parking lot my car went CHA-THUNK and a wheel fell off and went spinning into traffic. I turned around to gawk, and it turns out that a basketball-sized chunk of frozen street muck had fallen off. Not as exciting as a missing wheel, but a hell of a lot cheaper to replace.