VivaCity

Ahhh, the weekend. We meet again, dear friend.

In with the weekend, out with the Indian summer. It has been a glorious sixty-plus degrees here the past couple of weeks, and today, a return to freezing temperatures and, your favorite and mine, winter precipitation. Walla walla walla, step right up and place your bets! Will it hail? Sleet? Snow? Will it take ten minutes to get to work or forty-five? It's anybody's guess, and you won't know 'til you roll out of bed in the morning.

Ohio weathermen have got to have the toughest jobs in America. I can just picture them, poring over blips on screens and highs and lows and God knows what...Here comes the anchorman, straighten his tie, powder his nose, quick, somebody, tell him what to say! And we're live in three, two, one...Well folks, six oh two is the time and the weather tonight will be...(I SWEAR one time he actually said this)...Changing skies! WHAT? What does that mean?? Absolutely nothing. It's comparable to THE ORANGE ALERT (I always picture it in all caps) the country has been on for what, five years now? I just want to know how that helps, at all. I want to hear one eyewitness get on the news and stand there, shaking and upset but visibly relieved...You know, that ORANGE ALERT really saved my bum! I don't know what would have happened if it hadn't been for THE ORANGE ALERT!

A definite plus to working on the nineteenth floor is the frigging view, man. I am all up in those changing skies, and I can see foul weather rolling in a mile away. A dark line on the horizon, three layers of clouds moving at different speeds, and then...nothing. The clouds envelop us and for all I know, the nineteenth floor could have floated clean away and my elevator shaft nightmares could come true. We could be airborne, untethered, spirited off to that patent law office in the sky, some adventure to be had. It's all so Gulliver's Travels.

And here I am, daydreams burst, slamming back home to reality in my chair, my desk, my office, my floor, my building. My hunger to pour my thoughts out of my jumbled, eccentric mind, write them down, organize and share them has been sated, and that can mean only one thing. Lunch time is over.