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In Which I Emerge, Butterfly-Like, From The Cave Of February Doom - ANNE RILEY
For most of my life, I have harbored a cold and bitter hatred toward two things: 1) January and 2) February. To me, these months are the worst kind of torture, a wasteland of drudgery where people are forced to watch reruns of Two And A Half Men while eating coconut-covered tomatoes and drinking that …