Spring is sprung ... fie on daylight savings time
I'm beginning to despise Spring, that time of year that poets praise for its freshness, clergymen worship for its resurrection of life, the fashion industry extols for its new vision, the IRS enjoys because of the mayhem they promise, and the drug industry loves because of all the various allergy medications that swell eyes, noses, and their bottom lines. My negative view of the season starts in April because it simultaneously introduces tornado season and daylight savings time...not to mention the violets that bloom in my lawn.
I already have a screwed up sense of time...the kind caused by daily repetition of the mundane and boring with a tiny kick from aging. Not only does the week seem to have only two days in it, but January turns into the Ides of March, leaving February a vanishing species. And it's not just turning the clock one hour ahead. That loss of a single hour is not a biggy. It's the week or more of trying to adjust to my body clock telling me one thing and the rest of the world telling me something else. Believe me, I trust my body clock about 500 times more than I could ever trust the rest of the world.
Last Friday, there were tornados in Michigan and Illinois. Last night, Sunday, there were tornados and straight line winds in six states, mine among them, and they were severe enough that over 35 people died. We were in watch or warning mode for about six hours, just waiting to lose electricity, hear the sirens or have a tree hit the house. And naturally, since the entire scenario was accompanied by heavy rain, I have gallons of water in my basement again. That is a rite of spring for me and my house, and I still haven't been able to discover where that water gets in. I can brush up on my sidestroke at the "Y" but I think I'd rather invest in a pontoon vest that let any shyster assure himself a vacation in the Bahamas by jackhammering my basement.
Spring, glorious spring....it brings water, weeds, flying insects, tree pollen, mold, wind and downed limbs, my mother's birthday, income taxes, poison ivy, even higher gas prices as a preview of summer travel time, spring break for school kids and teachers, rising sap (as though there aren't enough human saps in the world already), itchy eyes, and the time when the iron in my body slowly turns to lead in my behind.
I'm learning to hate Spring.
I'm beginning to despise Spring, that time of year that poets praise for its freshness, clergymen worship for its resurrection of life, the fashion industry extols for its new vision, the IRS enjoys because of the mayhem they promise, and the drug industry loves because of all the various allergy medications that swell eyes, noses, and their bottom lines. My negative view of the season starts in April because it simultaneously introduces tornado season and daylight savings time...not to mention the violets that bloom in my lawn.
I already have a screwed up sense of time...the kind caused by daily repetition of the mundane and boring with a tiny kick from aging. Not only does the week seem to have only two days in it, but January turns into the Ides of March, leaving February a vanishing species. And it's not just turning the clock one hour ahead. That loss of a single hour is not a biggy. It's the week or more of trying to adjust to my body clock telling me one thing and the rest of the world telling me something else. Believe me, I trust my body clock about 500 times more than I could ever trust the rest of the world.
Last Friday, there were tornados in Michigan and Illinois. Last night, Sunday, there were tornados and straight line winds in six states, mine among them, and they were severe enough that over 35 people died. We were in watch or warning mode for about six hours, just waiting to lose electricity, hear the sirens or have a tree hit the house. And naturally, since the entire scenario was accompanied by heavy rain, I have gallons of water in my basement again. That is a rite of spring for me and my house, and I still haven't been able to discover where that water gets in. I can brush up on my sidestroke at the "Y" but I think I'd rather invest in a pontoon vest that let any shyster assure himself a vacation in the Bahamas by jackhammering my basement.
Spring, glorious spring....it brings water, weeds, flying insects, tree pollen, mold, wind and downed limbs, my mother's birthday, income taxes, poison ivy, even higher gas prices as a preview of summer travel time, spring break for school kids and teachers, rising sap (as though there aren't enough human saps in the world already), itchy eyes, and the time when the iron in my body slowly turns to lead in my behind.
I'm learning to hate Spring.

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