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What?! How did it get to be March already?
On Friday, the first day of March, David C. Fischer woke shortly before six a.m., warm in the mistaken belief that he had no scheduled appointments on his calendar. Then Fischer felt a chill as he realized that his Aunt Betty, born on March the first in nineteen twenty-five, was turning, or had by now in the Eastern Time Zone turned, ninety-four years old; Fisher had neglected to send a card. Oh, dear, oh, damn! Fischer could call, but Aunt Betty doesn’t hear so good anymore. This might be the day that Fischer puts his life in order.
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