Rejoicing in the crusty blue hue that for the sake of this post I’ll call Atmosphere

A robin goes picking through the mud on this muckiest of early spring mornings. Anyone staring up and east will be well aware of the shining blaze that is pure proof of summer time and the reason our solar system is held so neatly together. As the Sun kicks up its heels all over the big picture window to my office, spilling out over my monitors and UV raying my skin at a slow but steady pace I realize that it is officially the time for relaxing, nothing should be taken too seriously, and with all of the pressures of winter behind me I can finally live life as though there was no such thing as No Shoes, No Shirt, No Service.

Who’s got time for shoes in the summer? Who’s got a need for them? I trounced through the mud bog swamp of my backyard letting that ooiest goo squish up through my toes and I skimmed across the rocky busted pavement of my driveway and in both cases I was quite satisfied. And to sit on my front stoop in a thermal shirt and dripping sticky with the sweat of the day, feeling the sun’s flaming spots come licking down over my head and shoulders and cheeks reminding me that a sunscorch was near if I didn’t wear the proper protective clothing, well, it was all too grand, the heat swarming around my side of the earth long enough to last well into the dusk and then evening, swilling a beer and smoking a final cigarette before approving of the weekend’s acceptance of defeat.

So this summer I’m not expecting big things. Bill companies and government officials should not expect me to be timely in any manner, and I’m hoping my employer comes up to me with a rubber band, snaps it into the air and does a yoga twist gymnastics flip jump karate kick to it and says “That’s an example of the sort of flexibility we’ll be allowing here this summer.”

Soak up the rays, surfer dudes, cause it’s heaven on wheels here and I just had my cam shaft re-lubed.

Up Next: Tristan David on Fire Safety