Spring is Springing, and I’m Spring Cleaning

In the spirit of spring coming soon, I thought it would be a good idea to clean out my column idea list.

Don’t be frightened. These aren’t necessarily worse topics than I normally write about. They’re merely ideas that have no way of making it to 600 words.

First off, March is my least favorite month, hands down. The temperatures for the week look like last night’s Powerball drawing.

I didn’t make that one up. I just thought it was too funny not to share.

I was watching the national weather forecast a minute ago. And they were talking about how horrible the weather was going to be over the next couple of days.

They started with tornadoes in the plains. Then it was flooding in the northeast.

We southerners need to keep our weather radios handy because a cold front coming through tomorrow gives us the potential for high winds and flooding.

Then they singled out Florida, where no severe weather was expected.

But not to leave the Sunshine State out of the gloom and doom, the weather person noted the high potential for wildfires.

Congratulations, Florida. You’re miss congeniality.

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I saw an ad the other day for a cordless razor that works underwater.

There the guy was, happy as a clam. Shaving. Underwater.

I just timed myself to see how long I could hold my breath, and to my surprise, I lasted 34 seconds.

If I’m ever underwater, and I know I only have 34 seconds, I’m not going to go feeling around the Speedo for my razor. The world will just have to live with a little stubble.

While I’m talking about ridiculous ads, I saw one the other day for some fancy-schmancy cat food that showed the ingredients used in it.

It looked like the Sunday brunch buffet at the Waldorf Astoria.

As the camera panned across the lavish feast Twinkle Toes would be dining on, it showed a huge salmon filet, a 16-ounce ribeye, plump red tomatoes and other vegetables, a lamb chop for heaven’s sake, and that’s just what I can remember.

I like cats. We’ve always had a cat. But as long as he or she is going to sharpen his or her claws on the door facing, the humans are going to be the only mammals in the house eating the wagyu beef.

***

I’ve always loved how people on television drama shows can dig graves so easily.

There they are, with a  shovel, deep in the forest in the middle of the night next to the scoundrel they just offed.

One scene later, the victim has been dumped in a hole halfway to China, and the digger is putting the last shovel of dirt on top of him.

If you gave me a spade and a petunia and dropped me in the middle of the Sahara Desert, I would hit a root.

It always amuses me why it takes eight seasons of a series to find the killer, when all the cops had to do was go to the nearest woods and look for a brand new grave, do a DNA test and wrap it up.

But how much fun would that be?