There’s so much to do before you die

Snow on the poor daffodils. Three seasons at once!

I almost wrote Tuesday as Turdsday. Ha ha. I read the John Mayer profile in Rolling Stone the other day, and although I can’t quite get behind his music, he did have some interesting things to say about media and life in the public arena. Specifically, his fondness for poop jokes. He finds that a well-placed humorous reference to bodily functions is a good way to diffuse paparazzi hysteria. My sister is also a huge fan of coprophiliac humor, and I’ve always known I could make her happy my entire life by telling any kind of fart joke.

That’s an auspicious beginning for a post, isn’t it? Hey, even James Joyce had a soft spot for tales from the privy. I have certainly decided that plumbing will be my first priority if I become a landowner. I’m happy living in a teepee almost indefinitely, as long as I don’t have to smell my own crap. This is something I learned about a million times over on the boat.

Maybe it’s the drugs talking. I’m still cracked out on cold medicine, and my nose feel like someone took a belt sander to it. I feel like common colds every spring and fall are one of those things that didn’t happen in the tropics. We did have to deal with roundworms and malaria and tuberculosis, but hey! No runny noses!

Or maybe it’s the fifth snowfall of the year happening outside. In Chattanooga? Craziness! It seems prettier to me, today, somehow. Maybe it’s because it’s March, and I know this is winter’s last-ditch effort. It’ll be gone tomorrow, and then, maybe, finally, we can start on spring. The snow does have the unfortunate side effect of making the folks at Fox News (which I am forced to watch, in perpetuity, at work) place into further question the reality of global warming. They have yet to grasp the difference between “weather” and “climate.” Science? What science? Who cares?