I have to offer my sincere apologies to the inhabitants of the great state of Minnesota, on this day of March 28, 2007. No, I haven’t committed any horrific or heinous crime against the statutes of the state and/or government. I have, however, committed what may be considered an unforgivable offense against the people of Minnesota, a crime against society itself. I may not ever be prosecuted for this transgression, but I truly should be. I have done the people a grave wrong. And I am here today to confess it, offer my sincere apologies, and ask forgiveness for what I have done, accepting whatever punishment may be doled out upon my person.
What is this great, horrendous deed you ask? Before I answer that question, I must describe the scene out my window at this very minute. Looking out upon this early morning, it is gray, gloomy, cold and rainy. There is not to be any singing in the rain in Minnesota today or for the next week or more. The rain is to continue for three to four days, and when it finally subsides, even cooler temperatures will descend upon us and our state.
You may say, “so what?” So what? I’ll tell you, what! Only three days ago it was eighty-one degrees. It was sunny. It was beautiful. It was glorious. Snow was melting. Trees were budding. Birds were chirping. To make a reference to the work of Douglas Adams, the long dark tea time of our souls was lifting. To reference Shakespeare, the winter of our discontent was being made glorious spring, if not summer. And now this! That’s what! And it is my fault.
Yes, it is every bit my fault. You see, I jumped the gun. I got excited about the untimely harbinger and just plain got carried away. What did I do, you ask? Well, for starters, I did a little bit of spring cleaning. Then I did some pre-season work on my boat. I actually did some work in the yard, knowing full well it was way too early to be doing such things. And if that wasn’t enough, I decided to do some serious gambling. Thumbing my nose directly at the fates, I put away the snow shovels. Yes! I did! Nobody in Minnesota puts away their snow shovels before mid to late April, but I, standing proud and bold put away mine! And since I was on a role and had crossed the line into flagrant affront with no chance of exoneration, I set my face toward the shed and determinedly marched to the door, flung it open wide, and (imagine a deep thunderous anouncer voice) rolled--out--the--Harley (echo, echo, echo).
It was then that I knew I had truly gone too far. Somewhere in the distance I heard the faint sound of rolling thunder. As I neared the garage with it, I could swear I could feel the barometric pressure dropping, and as I stopped to dust it off and wash it I felt a slight drop in temperature. Not more than a fraction of a degree, but I could feel it. As a man bent on transgression that leads even unto death, I didn’t care. I persisted until all physical signs of winter were gone from my yard and garage. I was hell bent for spring, whether its time had truly come or not.
And so, here I sit, along with the rest of Minnesota, staring out the window at cold, damp, pure ugly, gloom. From the sound of the weather reports, it’s going to stay around a while, and it’s all my fault. So, again to the people of Minnesota, I sincerely apologize. I beg your forgiveness and hope that some day you can find it in your hearts to forgive me.
Why don’t I just remedy the situation, you ask. Why don't I just put the Harley back in the shed and bring the snow shovels back out?
What? Are you nuts?!?
Screw that!
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4 comments:
Much as I would like to pass the entire blame off on someone else, I suspect you are not alone in this. I too, foolishly jumped the gun and dragged my hammock out of the depths of the garden shed, dug out my favorite pair of cargo pocket shorts and headed for the back yard with a good book. Perhaps it should have been "The Good Book", because the hammock now stands forlornly dripping in the back yard and I don't have a prayer of enjoying anytime soon.
My name is Becky and I wore flip flops. (sigh)
..."here comes the snow again."
Take heart and be of good courage! There comes a time each spring in the life of every good Upper - Mid - Westerner (Wisconsinite in my case) where we must stand tall in our flip flops, wearing our camo cargo shorts and "Spring Break - 1987!" t shirt and say in defiance, "I will not go quietly into the night!"
We must put away our winter parka's, sorel boots and leather chopper mits and continue forward with expectant hope that Short's Weather has begun! Indeed, the first day of spring is not March 21st, but rather December 21st, the day of equinox, when daylight again begins to prevail over darkness.
Roll out your Harley's, flip your boats and fire up the outboard! Dust off your fishing poles and change the oil in your lawnmower while drinking a beer with the garage door open!
SPRING IS HERE!
...glad I was too lazy to store away the snowblower just yet, though.
If ye be guilty, may we all perish with thee.
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