Down the Hall on Your Left

This site is a blog about what has been coasting through my consciousness lately. The things I post will be reflections that I see of the world around me. You may not agree with me or like what I say. In either case – you’ll get over it and I can live with it if it makes you unhappy. Please feel free to leave comments if you wish . All postings are: copyright 2014 – 2018

Ahhhh, It’s Perfect

jester cap

TODAY I AM PUTTING ON MY in“Mr. Meteorology” hat.

After about twenty minutes of careful observation I have reached the undeniable conclusion that today, in Terre Haute (That’s French for “Let’s sit outside.”), the weather is just about perfect.

The Weather Bunny on Channel Two said that we should hit 80 degrees this afternoon with sunshine and no rain.

High-Five me Weather Bunny! You done good!

 The best way I can give you a verbal description of this weather is to say that it is warm enough so that the old bones don’t ache as much, thereby opening the door for some impromptu Interpretive Dancing, but not so warm that you start sweating like Rosie O’Donnell in the buffet line at Caesar’s.

You have those images in your brain? Good. And I’m sorry.

I have noticed, after extensive research and fact-finding missions to exotic places like T.G.I. Friday’s, The Kroger Bakery Department, and Payless Shoes, that we older dudes like the thermostat set a few degrees warmer than our younger planet sharers. I know that – so I always have a hoodie, sweatshirt, or Harold Robbins novel handy.

I make no pretense about being as Weather-Mavenish as Al Roker, our local Lapin du Temps, or even that cheap thing I bought at the Dollar Store that turns pink or blue when the weather changes. I just know what my knees tell me – and they are never wrong.

You remember that old theoretical experiment about chaining monkeys to typewriters and that eventually one of them would type “Hamlet?” Well, if I could ever get my knees to type it would take them all of twenty minutes to knock out either, “The Rainmaker,” or, “The Sunshine Boys.” I’d kneecap them myself if I saw that they were typing “Valley of the Dolls.”

After comparing notes over coffee with an ever diminishing number of fellow Geezers at St. Arbucks I feel confident in reporting my findings as conclusive, complete, irrefutable, arbitrary, and potentially litigious.

About the only thing that I can put my hand on the Bible about is that I know what I know, I feel what I feel, and that I have better taste in Art and Music than Art (my cousin) and the doorman on the sitcom “Rhoda,” played by Lorenzo Music. They’re both dead anyway.

So there.

Somehow this whole got away from me today. It started out as a simple weather report and has veered off into a dead-end street.

This would never have happened to Jim Cantori, the bald guy on the Weather Channel who seems to get stuck doing live pick-ups from every hurricane in the Western Hemisphere. You’d think that by the time he was old enough to have grown children he would have gotten an in-studio gig there. He must have really twisted somebody’s ego at the network.

Dang! I’ve done it again.

I’ve gone off on a tangent from my first tangent. I don’t know how things like this can happen in a sane world.

Oh, yeah. Never mind.

See you on Monday.


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