What can I say? You came so late, and now are leaving so early. You had such promise. You and I were going to GET THINGS DONE. I feel like we hardly got to know each other, and then there you go- riffling through my pockets for loose change so you can pay for the bus ride back to the south. And honestly, now that I’m noticing you trying to sneak out the back door, I feel a bit cheated. Even a bit woozy.
And no, that’s not because of the denial margaritas I’ve been medicating myself with.
There were plans- great plans– to work on the house. Remember those? Remember picking out paint for the porch- BACK IN MAY- for when those old boards would finally be replaced? Remember the plan to finish the kitchen- BACK IN APRIL? Remember the plan to cover up the ugliness of the back stairs?
Oh, sure, you can remind me of the little projects- the planting, and the bathroom, and the garage painting…but that tell-tale cackle of yours also reminds me that you had no intention of helping with those big projects.
No. No, don’t try to reassure me that there’s plenty of you still to go around! I won’t take that- not with the 65 degree weekend that suddenly left me in the dark at 7:45pm. Seriously? Seriously?!? How’s anyone suppose to get anything done by 7:45? Yes, your ugly cousin winter doesn’t even allow me that much time- but really? How is that any kind of comparison? The last time I checked I shouldn’t need a pair of night-vision goggles to weed my flower beds…
But I digress.
I guess I’m looking for a compromise- after the late spring and now autumn conditions, you owe me that much.
- You will pledge that while you may not hang around as long as you should this year, you will entreat the next season in line to last a long time into November, and will make a prompt showing of yourself on May 1, 2009.
- In return, I will not turn into the usual pale cranky winter couch slug I usually become on November 1st, and instead will use the time to get a head start on some of the other outstanding interior house projects.
And, as always, I will rejoice, dance, and sing your praises when the last of the snow melts next year. It wouldn’t be summer after all without the rejoicing, singing and dancing.
The Occupants of the Cotterpin House