Confused seasons
Springtime is a synonym for confusion. In what other season do you forego the winter coat and find the temperature back down to -17C? Or spot the first robin of the season, in a sunny snow squall. If the bird seemed bewildered, he (by his size and coloration) had every right. Are frozen worms difficult to extract from the frozen ground? I dream, short term, of changing out the winter tires. I don’t.
But, this too shall pass. Three months from now, we’re be joyfully trying to find a cooler spot to spend the afternoon. And in six months… don’t go there. Not yet. A few days of sun and sand, beforehand.
The scapegoat has been charged. I’m referring to the brains behind the robocall scheme, if the apologists are to be believed. Sneaking suspicion that the sacrificial list will be short, and then we’ll be back to “business as usual”.
In the financial news, a whole list of pension funds that were about to “melt away” are showing a resurge. Funny how that pension boogeyman serves the government, when it wants to implant new austerity measures, but the elevator doesn’t come back. We’ll have to live with tighter purse strings, even if the coffers are o’erflowing with coin. And because we have no real control over the current government, we’ll complain in timid voices and then turn our interest to something else.
Pardon my distracted tone. I’ve received an email promising an upcoming vacation. No, really! I intend to flash my phone at the ticket machine and see what happens.
