March is the month where you really start to realize that the sun has been away in Jamaica for the past quarter year, and you were supposed to check its messages and feed its cats but you totally let it slip off the radar.  Now you feel like a freakin' jerk and you have to burry Mr. and Mrs. Dinkerpuss in the snow and ice and hope you aren't around when it thaws.

I hear it actually rains in Berkeley this time of year, for an entire week.  In March, the vengeful fist of Martius, the Roman God of War, randomly smites music industry majors and C++ programmers.  In fact, ancient Romans were so afraid of the month of March that they held it as the first month of the year, and some cultures still offer the rights to the new year to the angry month.  I don't even want to mention daylight savings.

I'm no fan of March personally, and one may argue that it's a time when spring slowly begins to emerge from the dirty, onyx snow that piles along the curb, but don’t be fooled; it's going to be a long time before the outside is used for any more than a vessel between home and the car.