Let me be the first to wish you a happy Friday!
And even if I’m not the first, there’s no harm in letting me believe that I am.
It’s a win-win. You get a free “happy Friday” greeting, and I get this here blog post, which, much like the Happy Meal toys of old, are simultaneously strangely exciting and yet toweringly useless.
Schlepping Through the Desert on a Horse Who Shall Remain Nameless
But enough idle chit-chat. We have a blog post to write. So let’s roll up our collective sleeves, crack our collective knuckles, and bend over our collective keyboards in anticipation of this strange Happy-Meal-toy of a blog post.
It has been quite the week here in Biffville (population: dwindling).
Work has been that magical level of busyness that causes the time to pass by quickly, but also without any real sense of accomplishment or purpose. It is sort of like waking up from a dream about trudging through a desert. You feel as if you just accomplished the monumental feat of wandering through the desert, and yet all you really did was lay there in bed for 8 hours breathing through your mouth.
And yet, when you tell people that you dreamt of walking through a great desert on foot without even a canteen of water, all they are thinking is, “Mouth breather.”
All of that is just to point out the fact that somehow this week has passed by without anything of real substance happening to me, even though it felt like quite a slog.
Weather Thou Goest …
It was quite an exciting week here weather-wise. And even weather-stupid.
The early part of the week was very warm and muggy. On one or two days, the temperature crept up to about 80 F (26 C). The air was quite humid, leading to a plague of bad hair days upon the land. We were wearing sunglasses and wearing short-sleeved shirts. We were running air conditioners. We were swatting at gnats and mosquitoes. We were sipping iced tea out on the veranda (or, at least, in the drive-through at Chic-Fil-A).
Summer had come in early February.
But then last night, Mother Nature, keenly aware that she had softened us up and lulled us into a sort of warm, cozy stupor, hiked up her skirt, reared back with her brogues, and kicked us squarely in the derriere.
A blue Norther came roaring through town last night, kicking up a ruckus, lighting up the place with bolts of lightening, slapping us around with deafening peals of thunder, and knocking out the power for 2 seconds just so that we would all have to reset our clocks this morning.
It got down to about 30 ( -1 C), which may not seem like that cold, but considering that that was about 40 degrees cooler than it was just a few hours before … well … let’s just say we knew what it felt like to be freeze-dried, just like Folger’s Crystals.
Let the Weekend Begin!
And now, with out further ado, get out there and have a great weekend!
Let me know if you find anything interesting.