Pizza in Pittsburgh sucks, which is why my wife and I actually stopped at a Donato’s in Akron on the way home from Columbus Sunday and picked up a large pepperoni and a large Founder’s Favorite (pep, ham, sausage and those yellow banana peppers — oh God, it’s wonderful!), stuffed the boxes into a big plastic carrier that the Donato’s folks sold a few years ago, wrapped the boxes in old towels and drove them home. They were still warm when we got to Butler two hours later. And I just ate the leftover pep for dinner tonight. Most Pittsburgh pizza is overly bready … thick crust, goopy, eat-two-slices-and-you’re-done-because-it’s-expanded-in-your-stomach-to-the-size-of-a-watermelon … And you can’t ever know the size of the pizza you’re ordering, because size here is measured in cuts, as in eight-cut, ten-cut, etc. The first time I ordered pizza here I made the kid on the phone find a ruler to measure the pans, because he couldn’t tell me how big the 8-cut actually was. I also pointed out to him that you can cut a six-inch pizza into twenty slices or cut a 20-inch pizza in half … I’m still convinced he spit on my dinner.

So I’m full. And a little bummed. Here’s why:

We’re waiting for the Big Snow. Six inches or more. On Tuesday. I’d rather be going to Seven Springs than to work on Tuesday, but that’s basically a dream. If this was January, I’d be looking forward to the storm. But it’s March, so I’m not.

Being here — and not in Columbus — is becoming increasingly tiresome. I’m almost ready to bag all this career stuff and take a retail job, just to get there.

I’m starting to pay off some old debts I rolled up when I was young and stupid. In the big picture, that’s a good thing, but it’s going to seriously dent our social life for a few months. What are we doing tonight, honey? TV and mac and cheese? Mmmmmm…

I was going to be all ambitious and work a daylight shift on Tuesday (after working my standard 4-12 on Monday), but now I’m thinking I’d rather get some sleep.

A good friend of mine is struggling, with a bunch of stuff. I’m not sure what I can do about it, but I’m at the point where I have to try.

There are some good things:

It’s black jelly bean season. The Easter bunny used to bring me entire bags of black jelly beans. I’d eat them by the handful and then chase my sister around Grandma Reaver’s house, threatening her with my black teeth.

I’m about to lose my standard $20 betting on the NCAA basketball tournament. Losing $20 isn’t necessarily a good thing, but the tournament is.

It’s almost baseball season. The Indians will still suck, but a bad day at nearly any ballpark is better than the best day at … um … well, it’s a good day.

The Wife still loves me. I know because she just told me so. That’s the best part.