- by Michael
Someone once defined adulthood as “the age past which is
unreasonable to expect to develop superpowers.” OK, maybe nobody actually said
that but me, but it totally fits. I sincerely doubt that I’ll suddenly manifest
the capacity to fly, or walk through walls, or grow my nails really long. This
is a mild disappointment, of course, but since I’ve already grown a superpower,
I think I can live with it – even though on the scale of Wolverine to Cyclops,
mine is closer to Jubilee:
I can alter the weather with my footwear choices.
To be fair, this power is shared with my wife – together, we control the weather.
For instance, after the big snow in February – the “snowpocalypse,”
as it was labeled by the
not-at-all-incentivized-by-sensationalizing-things-media – Joanie and I decided
to go ahead and buy some nice winter boots. Immediately upon hitting the “confirm
purchase” button, we apparently initiated some subroutine in nature’s intricate
weather programming, and voila:
No more snow!
Until several weeks later, when we figured that, what with
the impending summer season at Chautauqua, where “office wear” means “guys,
please try to wear t-shirts WITHOUT mustard on them,” we should probably buy
new sandals.
Guess what happened immediately after they arrived?
Yeah, buckets of snow.
Punxsutawney who?
Not really recent, either. Last October, for instance, we
wore galoshes because it was GUARANTEED to rain that day. Apparently buckets
would be falling all over Manhattan, cats and dogs descending in a deluge, a
monsoon migrating over from –
Wait –
Nope, no rain. Guess who looked like the World’s Biggest
Idiot walking ten blocks to the library in knee-high galoshes in bright, sunny
weather?
So be grateful, fellow citizens, on days that should be
gloomy and aren’t – we bit the bullet for you and wore appropriate shoes so
that you would not suffer. And on days that are supposed to be beautiful, send
us peace offerings of dollar-a-slice pizza and candy – we can totally be bribed
into ensuring that the day does not, in fact, turn into rainmageddon.
We have the power.
We must use it wisely.