Humor by John Christmann
The Spring Of My Discontent
There is nothing better than early spring in New Jersey. Except maybe late spring, but that’s another column.
In early spring, New Jersey lawns, like recovering hospital patients, begin to regain some color and show signs of life. Young daffodil legs emerge from the earth as if they are outgrowing a pair of pants. Indiscriminate birds chatter on their cell phones in the morning to inform their southern friends that the housing market up north shows signs of recovery.
On roadways in the early spring I see a faint wash of yellow over gangly Forsythia and giddily try to repeat the name ten times without lithping. As I drive to the Home Depot with renewed energy and fresh project lists, I am given hope that the Garden State is correctly named, and will not be given over to license plates which declare my residence in the Forever Brown State.
In early spring carpools bud again as freed children in sweatshirts swing baseball bats and wiggle lacrosse sticks on outdoor fields that stay light until the evening. In early spring I whistle hopefully as I plunk down my money toward office-generated Pick 16 basketball lottos without even caring what teams are in the tournament.
And then, just like that, my enthusiasm is dashed by a couple days of harsh weather. After all, March is the month of lions and lambs, neither of which are native to New Jersey. But it is a lot catchier to say than coming in like a Black Bear or going out like a Pine Barren Tree Frog.
This is what I was thinking when I woke up this morning to snow; cold, wet, thick slushy snow. The kind of snow that makes relocating to Fiji worth real consideration. The kind of snow that makes my back hurt just glancing at it.
Winter this year has been nothing but a series of snowstorm in-laws that have overstayed their welcome. I was glad to see them when they arrived and even happier to see them go. But now that it is finally spring, it seems they are in danger of missing their plane all together.
Nothing puts me in a dour mood faster than delayed flights. Except maybe delayed school openings. And on this cold gray morning several days into the promise of spring, I had to endure both: I was in real danger of coming in like a black bear and going out like a black bear.
But just when I thought the dashed pleasure of emerging from winter hibernation couldn’t get any worse, the coffee maker stopped working. In technical terms, the thing was broken.
It turns out a malfunctioning coffee maker is a common problem described in significant detail on the Internet. If you conduct a focused search using highly specific language such as grumpy dad seeks to fix a brand new automatic coffee so he can at least have a cup of coffee early on a miserable spring morning you can actually find a plethora of How To tips and warnings not to buy automatic coffee makers like mine because they tend to become clogged and make dads grumpy on miserable spring mornings.
Here is what I learned: running vinegar through the coffee maker will help clear blockages due to hard water. Apparently, it works well for dishwashers too. Except for the ice in our freezer, I had no idea I had hard water in my appliances.
Before too long my daughter bounded downstairs into the kitchen fresh as a daisy. Unlike me, she was overjoyed to learn she had a delayed opening at school. Then she looked around sniffing, trying to identify the searing aroma. “Dad, are you trying to bake something again?” she gagged, rubbing her watering eyes.
“It’s vinegar.” I growled. “For the coffee maker. I put a bottle in the dishwasher too. And the ice maker.” Then I brought the first sip of morning coffee to my to lips in a desperate attempt to rescue spring.
“I hope you rinsed it out,” she said, before the overpowering aroma turned her away.
Rinse it out?
Fortunately, I expect my backslide into winter despondency to be short lived. A couple of dramatically warm days here and there will offer a glimmer of what is to come. They will offer a chance to dream about recirculating shorts and summer clothes. They will offer a chance to contemplate exercise in the pasty mirror reflection of my winter fat.
They will give me the chance to throw open the windows and cleanse my winter den of hard water and vinegar.
Yes, there is nothing better than early spring in New Jersey. For soon it will be late spring and I will really have something enthusiastic to write about.
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