Dear Future Leslee:
Spring has come to the nation’s capital. Now, some of you might be looking outside and saying, “but Past Leslee, it is not spring” but you would be mistaken. Because it IS spring, and this isn’t just my seasonal affective disorder talking. I happen to have EVIDENCE. PROOF, if you will. Sure, it still seems like winter, but you know what they say: if it looks like November and feels like November and gives you frostbite like November, it’s spring in Ottawa!
Listen, it will officially be spring in like a week and that makes it spring. Above and beyond that, however, I have REAL, CONCRETE FACTS to prove to you that it is, after all, spring. It is like CSI: Miami all up in here, only with fewer stabbed hookers. Only slightly fewer, and even then it is mostly because hookers don’t like to work when it is cold enough to freeze your patookus off. Hookers need their patookus’. It’s how they make magic.
Evidence the first: Puddles.
Today I got off the bus early and walked home part way, and it was a fucking minefield of man-eating puddles. When I wasn’t scaling Snow Peak to avoid stepping in puddles up to my ankles I was diving into people’s driveways to avoid getting splashed by passing cars. Insane.
As you know, here in Canada we mark the seasons by how each one kills our octogenarians. You know it’s winter when some old guy freezes to death in a snow bank. You know it’s summer when some old lady dies from heat exhaustion. You know it’s fall when someone dies in a car crash after some punk kid drops a pumpkin on their vehicle from an overpass, and you know it’s spring when one of our village elders drowns in a puddle.
Now you might be thinking, “Past Leslee, I am pretty sure no old person has ever drowned in a puddle.” “Hyperlink or it didn’t happen,” you might think. Well, just so you know, I will push an old lady into a puddle to make this true. That is just how dedicated I am to accuracy. I’m like a calculator, only I’m bad at math and I write poorly-spellchecked blogs where I threaten the elderly.
Best calculator EVER.
Evidence the second: Birds.
As you know, I take the bus. There are these little sparrow-things at my bus stop, but they’ve been gone all winter. However, now that it is spring (because it IS SPRING, people) they have come back. Also they’re psychotic.
Some sort of alarm has gone off in their minute finch brains, and that alarm is saying “BUILD A NEST! BUILD A GODDAMN NEST, MOTHERFUCKER!! HOLY CRAP, GET THAT FUCKING TWIG!! AND ESPECIALLY THAT ONE! AND THAT ONE!!! AHHHHH”. I have never seen anything thing so hyperactively focused. These bastards would kill a puppy to get at the twig he was sniffing. They are like cocaine-fueled twig-gathering Navy SEALS, only I am pretty sure the American Military is slightly less fearless. Dudes swoop around, dangerously close to people and traffic with complete disregard for their own safety because they need that fucking twig right the fuck now. I know they’ll calm down once they have babies, but until then I am kind of intimidated. By finches. Yeah.
Evidence thrice: the “Weather”.
Okay, so there is still a foot of snow where beauteous lawns once rolled greenly under the summer sun. Yes, I (and probably most of you) am still wearing my winter boots and a coat with fur around the hood (I am getting so goddamn sick of this parka, you have no idea). We keep getting random blizzards, which I suspect is God’s way of daring us all to commit suicide.
But right now, at this very moment, it is PLUS FOUR. Did you see that?! PLUS. FOUR. It is positive degrees! For real! The rain that we have all been complaining about is falling as liquid because holy fucking Christ, it is ABOVE FREEZING. This is exciting, people. Don’t agree with me? Too bad. Mother nature will prove me right in the end.
So that is why I know it is spring. Incontrovertible truth? YOU KNOW IT. In other news, I was waiting for the bus the other day and some kid was dancing like Michael Jackson in the middle of a snowstorm. He was pretty good, but I couldn’t tell if he was a dance student or just fucking crazy. Surreal.
Anyway, enjoy the “weather”!