Is it just me, or does the waxing daylight of spring make you realize just how much of a mess you\u2019ve made the past six months?<\/p>\n
Right around this time of year, every year, each speck of dirt seems to cast a shadow. Suddenly, with the return of direct sun, the kitchen floor looks like a crime scene all taped off for forensic spatter analysis. While we\u2019re at it, better call in the fingerprint team to work up the living room windows.<\/p>\n
And that\u2019s to say nothing of the detritus that\u2019s collected on the junk table: old mail; new mail; various tide tables, none current; a Thermos brand thermos; an off-brand thermos; a bag of bags; a charger for something; another charger for something else; an electronic device that\u2019s lost its charger; four non-matching socks; a Barbie head and, for some reason, a CD wallet containing the entire Smashing Pumpkins discography. Thinking about it now, this might be part of the problem: my family calls it a junk table. Maybe we should rename it the \u201corderly shelf\u201d or the \u201cobsessive-compulsive slab.\u201d<\/p>\n
Anyway, outside in the yard spring reveals even more clutter. Indeed, it looks like some neighborhood dog\u2019s been \u201ccluttering\u201d up our garden all winter. Cool\u2014less fertilizer to buy.<\/p>\n
Spring has also laid bare a moraine of other (non-bio-hazardous) debris: a rusting bicycle trailer; a wheel-less wheelbarrow; the splintered remains of a plastic snow disc I accidentally ran over\u2014don\u2019t tell my kids\u2014 not to mention a pile of cardboard I\u2019ve successfully procrastinated taking to the recycling center for two whole years; that kind of procrastination takes effort. Maybe if I leave it another couple years, it\u2019ll just disintegrate on its own. Maybe I\u2019ll help it along by doing nothing.<\/p>\n
And dig this incredible find: at the foot of our mailbox, I kicked aside some gravel to discover a 2015 Yellow Pages, a 2014 Yellow Pages and a plastic bag filled with gross mush, which I can only assume was once the 2013 Yellow Pages. Who uses phone books anymore?<\/p>\n
Speaking of gross mush\u2026 Know what I encountered the other day on our front lawn? A pile of rotting pumpkins, which both looks and smells like vomit (of someone who\u2019s eaten mass pumpkin seeds). I guess my wife was serious when she threatened to kick the jack-o-lanterns off the porch unless I got rid of them by Christmas.<\/p>\n
Now, in some ways, I\u2019m actually excited for spring-cleaning, mostly because there\u2019s no better excuse to buy gas-powered machinery. For instance, last year I got a chainsaw on a pole (best Seward Day gift ever!). This year, I approved my own requisition order for a pressure washer and I\u2019ll tell you, I\u2019m aching to blast something. Like those pumpkins. Man, I haven\u2019t been this stoked since spring-cleaning of 2009 when we got a 6.5 horsepower Shop-Vac. Imagine, six and a half horses all sucking together in perfect unison\u2026<\/p>\n
But there\u2019s one aspect of spring-cleaning I perennially dread \u2014 cleaning up my own act. First of all, I\u2019m pale. And I mean I make Lord Voldemort look like John Boehner. And then there\u2019s the winter beard, because right now, it\u2019s like I\u2019ve got an orange chia pet on my face. Do I trim it or should I try and go full-on major league relief pitcher? And if I shave, how many extra chins will I discover I\u2019ve grown under there?<\/p>\n
You see, Juneau is full of fit people who run long distances up steep mountains for fun. I am not one of these people. I suffer from what I like to call \u201creverse anorexia.\u201d With me, it\u2019s all binge, no purge (well, not unless I\u2019ve been drinking tequila, which I generally don\u2019t because it always makes me purge).<\/p>\n
Well, as a result, once again I find myself emerging from the darker, colder, Netflix-filled months with a nice, proud winter gut. It\u2019s especially noticeable now that I\u2019ve been skinny-dipping in the hot tub a few times (by the way, if you\u2019re my neighbor, don\u2019t call animal control; that\u2019s not a wild orangutan on the loose, just me). Plus, my life vest fits me like a sports bra (I won\u2019t even tell you how my sports bra fits).<\/p>\n
Especially with rec league softball coming up \u2014 my goal is to go from morbidly obese to just plain regular obese by the season opener \u2014 it\u2019s time to take positive action, by which I mean procrastinate a little longer and then throw a bunch of money at the problem (new sneakers, protein powder, maybe a bigger sports bra).<\/p>\n
Next, I suppose I\u2019ll dust off the treadmill, itself obtained during the money-throwing phase of 2008\u2019s battle with winter gut. Then come the obligatory grilled meat-covered salads, the egg white omelets, Diet Pepsi by the palette. And push-ups and sit-ups and no beer\u2026 well, except on weekends; and Thursdays; and one other \u201cwild card\u201d day; forget it.<\/p>\n
You know, that sounds awfully effortful. On second thought, maybe I\u2019ll just go eat cake frosting off a spoon.<\/p>\n
\u2022 Geoff Kirsch\u2019s SlackTide comes out the second and fourh Sunday of the month. He can be reached at geoff@geoffkirsch.com.<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"
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