Every April 1st, I wage a little battle with myself. On one hand, I HATE April Fool's Day. But on the other hand, I'd sort of like to play a really good joke.
Sometimes I think about writing a blog post complaining about how, as I was driving my dang kids to school I had to slam on my brakes, thus causing my lighted cigarette to fall into my morning beer, which made me say a string of curse words (without blushing) that would have scarred my innocent children had they not taught the words to me earlier in a heated exchange with their school Principal after he dared to complain that they'd taken his car for a joy ride and driven over the cemetery near our house, which, as I explained to the Principal, wouldn't have happened--it's never happened when they've taken his car before --but they were trying to teach the puppy to drive.
I'm always a little afraid that someone will take something like that seriously, though, and as we all know, I HATE beer.
Still, I have an appreciation for a good joke as much as the next person. Take, for example, what it's doing outside even as we speak.
Good one, God.