You might think that it should have been obvious before now but then again, ye don't live at the Coop. Here the changing of the holidays is marked with a little less punctuality. Ye might say we're a might slow round here, that is, if ye was inclined to gross understatement. F'rinstance, (that's a word, where i come from,) with the headless scarecrow at the end of the drive, the moldering Christmas lights from eight years ago still listlessly hanging from the sagging gutters and Easter candy in the cupboards, it's not always readily apparent what season it is round here, period. Then again, with the weather obscenely streaking up into the sixties, how's a fricken to know what blamed season it is, if the doggone atmosphere don't know?
Guess we'll just have to keep checking the cat's stool.