Tuesday, January 15, 2019
Gray day reading
I'd like to begin my comments today with a little joke. Don't worry, it's not funny.
Wait, you mean you'd like for the jokes to be funny? Weird. Well, I wish someone would have mentioned that a couple thousand blog posts ago. I'd probably be famous by now!
Here's the joke:
What do Right Wing Pundits and Weather Forecasters have in common?
No matter how many times reality proves them wrong they're still asked back.
And so a morning that was supposed to be partly cloudy and free of precipitation dawned and instead it was buried in clouds, drizzling heavily, and impossibly dark. Being unseasonably warm for January here in The Twin Cities just meant it was damp and cold. It was one of the bleakest days I have ever seen.
So I walked to work because I had to. The wee birdies cowered into themselves. The squirrels seemed a little depressed, for squirrels, and the geese sat on the river ice and refused to move. The cars all had their brights on though it offered them no help. The fancy river houses were all abandoned; dark, cold, and impeccable.
But every once in awhile I'd see some warm light on in the corner of an attic, or an encouraging glow in the middle of a dark apartment building, and I'd long to be at home, curled up on the sofa with my wife, with a pot of terribly strong french press and cream at hand, endless chocolate croissants, and, essentially, a large stack of almost impossibly good books.
Books, books, books, books. On such a day as this I sure would like to laze about reading books.
But I can't. I have to work at the library. Making it possible for others to do so.