Monday, November 8, 2004

You know, gentle reader, if we were conversing a month or two ago, the sun would be shining. A slight breeze would play through the trees as children frolic through the streets, screaming and laughing at the expense of an uncapped fire hydrant. Police officers would hum giddily, having subdued an armed felon, and the felon would harmonize through the backseat grille.

Before handing you a box, the local mailwoman would dance like a leprechaun at your doorstep. Unbeknownst to her, an actual leprechaun sits inside the box, ready to do an Irish jig with only a moment’s notice. Listen very carefully and you’d hear the strains of a smooth jazz piece.

Right now? It’s pitch black. Freezing. Assuming I can stumble to the garage without slamming into any walls or pedestrians, I will have the opportunity to witness my car not start. It will eventually start, make no mistake, but only after I scold it for its incompetence. My car, however, won’t take the scolding well, so it will retaliate by freezing my windshield–on the inside. I’m thinking along the lines of The Day After Tomorrow, and with any luck Dennis Quaid will leap onto my sunroof from the darkness.

And you know what? It wouldn’t really matter because there’s no sun to enjoy. Mr. Quaid could cover my sunroof for the entire ride and I’d keep on driving. A few days ago, we embraced daylight saving time because our planet’s tilted incorrectly. Sure, the other half of earth gets summer, but who really cares? It’s mostly water anyway.

I’ve always hated complainers, however, so I’ve donned my Proactive Hat. I grabbed a piece of paper from my printer, drew a picture of the sun, and stuck the drawing on my window. Now I don’t have enough sunblock.