Today I saw my first crocus popping up after the long winter. It was in a picture a friend posted on Facebook. Suddenly, it seemed everyone was posting pictures of buds on trees, robins on the lawn, green shoots coming up in the garden. It was almost enough to make me go outside and take a look for myself.
But not quite. I’m only on level 156 of “Candy Crush,” and it may take me most of the year to get to the 560th level, where I will find total and complete understanding of the universe. Or become a vegetable.
Yes, spring is in the air, but my pollen filter catches most of it and scrubs it before I have to breathe it. I see other people posting pictures of themselves out of doors, pretending to enjoy the weather, and I wonder why they take the risk of going outside. Why risk getting stung by a bee or killed by a zombie or being hit by a meteorite when they could be inside playing “FarmVille” or growing a digital garden from the safety and comfort of their own basement? My weather app says it will be near 70 today, but they never tell you what the wind chill will be when the temperature goes above freezing. It may be 70 degrees on the thermometer, but it might “feel” like it’s 65. I don’t think that’s warm enough to go outside in my PJs.
Besides, if spring means anything, it means baseball. That’s right, it means the long wait for Fantasy Baseball is finally over. “Take me in to the ball game, don’t make me go to the park. Make me some pizza and Hot Pockets, ‘cause I don’t care if I ever go out ...” Why on earth would I leave the house to go to a real stadium when I can sit at home in my jammies and manage my own team? I never have a bad seat, and I’ve got my own personal concession stand only a few yards away. And the parking’s a breeze.