Bedtime

It began raining, sometime before midnight.

It’s the middle of December, and it hasn’t gotten cold yet. Maybe just a little crispy some nights, but it doesn’t freeze anymore, south of Poughkeepsie, not even at night. Not since last spring. Having lived most of my life in Southern California, a long life so far, you’d think I might welcome a two-year thaw in the Tri-State. The answer to that thought is, no.

A few winters ago, and by “winter” I mean around the time that pitchers and catchers report to Spring Training in Florida and Arizona, I had my picture taken, while lying face down in a foot of front yard snow, wearing nothing but underwear and gloves. It seemed funny at the time; the kind of thing we used to do for social media, when I was a thin-blooded LA transplant, braving the New York elements, swearing to everybody back home that, “It really isn’t that cold here”. Like so many other things about leaving the only life you’ve ever known, for a new one you’ll never really know as home, snow not being cold was the strangest one of all.

Now, with what’s looking like another January in shorts and tee shirts, everyone here is beginning to wonder out loud what summer is going to do to us.

I mean, this is Long Island, so you don’t run into much other than “climate deniers”. The same way you don’t run into much other than pickup trucks with bumper stickers that read TRUMP 2028. But for the first time since I got here, I actually heard the kid behind the counter at Dunkin saying, “The fuck is goin’ on with this weather?” And for the first time since I got here, I actually had the nerve to reply, “Shit, bro, you tell me.”

Last night, on ABC/Newsmax, the blonde woman filling in for the regular anchor, the one who got himself fired for reminding his viewers that he was, in fact, gay, said that the merger of the two broadcasting companies was almost complete, and still right on schedule. Also, that next week’s primetime special featuring the first televised public execution of a political enemy would be shown in its entirety, live at 9 PM Eastern, 6 PM Pacific. Before going to commercial, she reminded her audience that the regularly scheduled episode of Shark Tank would run at its usual time, the following Friday.

I haven’t decided yet if I’ll watch.

I mean, back in ’24, I skipped watching Mike Tyson fight Jake Paul because it wasn’t going to start till after my bedtime, so what makes the network think I’ll still be up when they finally get around to the main event, sometime after ten? Also, that seems like it’s probably past the executed’s bedtime, as well.

Maybe he’ll be asleep before it happens, too.