At first, I was angry because it’s not supposed to snow in Maine. The 182 Days of Terror clearly end on April first, and we were now more than a month past that.
Still half asleep, I shook the cobwebs from my brain and came up with the more likely scenario to explain the storm: I had finally finished my time machine, traveled back to early winter, and now had to come up with a plan to save the world from the Coronavirus!
Of course, this troubled me deeply. How in the world was I going to convince Trump and his cronies that COVID-19 was a true threat, and not some Democratic hoax meant to tank his chances at re-election?
After all, those geniuses have proven time and again that their grasp on reality is very loose, they have little use for facts that don’t align with their way of thinking, and the well-being of the economy takes priority to the well-being of the workers in that economy.
Why didn’t I first use the time machine to go into the future to find rock solid proof that something near and dear to Trump’s heart is ruined by the pandemic? Then I could bring that with me into the past to persuade him that he needed to act immediately to protect the country from the virus.
Alas, all that fretting was for naught when I finally realized I had not done any time traveling, and that it was really snowing on May 9.
Why should a snowstorm in May surprise me at this point? I’m looking out the living room window as I type this, and it is snowing even harder now, five hours later. This is the year when anything awful can and will happen, and the frustrating thing about that is there are still seven months to navigate before Baby New Year comes to save us.
I did vent a little on social media, though, because getting the anger out of my system and sending it off into the internet always helps to lower the stress levels.
One post was: In a quarantine, no one can hear you scream…at Mother Nature.
The other was: I’ve just send an angry letter to Mother Nature demanding a refund for 2020.
I’m not sure if today’s snowstorm is the straw that breaks this camel’s back, but I am certain that I’d have absolutely no problem with winter and the pandemic ending.
At what point does it become kicking the human race while it’s down? Someone once told me that what doesn’t kill me will only make me stronger, but I’m having some trouble with that philosophy at this point in the eternal winter of my discontent.
How about something good happening for a change? We don’t even have to string together multiple events. Let’s just put an end to the consecutive shitty days streak, and remind the world what it’s like to feel positive again.
In the meantime, I’ll tinker with the time machine. If I can get it to work, maybe I’ll go back even further in time and try to change the outcome of the 2016 election because that might be the only way to save the country from the full extent of the virus’ wrath…