My son Matthew is a treasure trove of clichés. They mean a lot to him and he uses them well. One of them is “Time flies when you’re having a good time.” That was true of most of February for me, studded as it was with birthdays. But the last week after my birthday was slow and hard to get through. My first grandson’s birthday is tomorrow, March first, and it has been hard waiting for it.

“Après moi, le deluge.” Matt doesn’t say that. Loius XIV said it. Not a flood, but storms , snow, ice, slush and broken bones. Not the kind of thing that makes time fly. I’m coming to the end of my depression. I’ll work at a better tomorrow.