Really, what a dumb name it is. As if the days are any longer. They're exactly the same amount of daylight no matter what time the clock says, right? I vote that 2020 would be the perfect year to just quit messing around with this crap every Fall and Spring. Oh dear, I said that dreaded word: vote.
In the interest of sanity, in proximity to Election Day, instead of reading the Washington Post, the New York Times, Jim Wright's Stonekettle Station, or The Atlantic, first thing this morning, I finalized my poetry chapbook entry and used Submittalbe to send it to a publisher's contest.
I did it.
It almost (almost) doesn't even matter what they tell me, if I win, if they say "yay" or "nay." This morning, this day, I feel like a real writer.