There Is A Hole In My Soul

And by soul, I mean sole.  Can you think of a worse day to discover a hole in the bottom of your shoe?  I can’t.  Slushy snow.  Deep puddles.  Unshoveled side walks.  Wet socks.  Luckily, the environmental maintenance in our building is a bit shaky so there are a plethora of space heaters to borrow to dry said wet socks.

Plethora, what an awesome weird word.  Do I say “there are a plethora” or do I say “there is a plethora”?  Neither sounds quite right.

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