Apr 24, 2015 3 min read

I want to lodge a formal complaint. As you may recall, last week I was still recovering from “My Adventures in Outpatient Surgery.” I was stuck inside on the best weekend of 2015. OK, that might be a slight exaggeration, but you have to admit, the weather was pretty darn nice last weekend.

Meanwhile, I was indoors, trying to keep my blood on the inside of my body where it belongs. I was on a weight restriction: I was ordered not to lift over 10 pounds with my right hand. I also had a pad to keep my arm straight and a half a roll of gauze around my wrist. I looked like a World War I combat vet.

I did manage to type out a column, one finger at a time. I wasn’t going to let them run an ad in this space. It’s not like I could just leave a lawn chair here. If I don’t show up, someone else gets the spot. I am as territorial as your average South Sider during Snowmageddon.

But I digress, like I do. Apparently, I missed a glorious, sunny weekend. Now, I’m feeling spry and youthful (mostly), and it’s yucky out again. Wednesday, a coworker reported that he saw a snowflake. I wanted to punch him with my good arm. A snowflake? Seriously? In April? I’m indignant.

Being inside last weekend brought up a childhood memory: Suddenly, I am 11 years old again, and I’m stuck inside during the summer because I have the chickenpox. I remember standing at the screen door watching all the other neighborhood kids play. Sad face.

No, I didn’t do that last weekend, because now it would be creepy. Also, we didn’t have Netflix when I was growing up. I spent my recovery weekend learning that Kimmy Schmidt is unbreakable and Matt Murdock is not. I binge-watched both shows. That superhero dude bled a lot more than I did, but he got up and kept fighting. I need some superpowers, stat!

I realize it probably won’t be our only good weekend, but I missed my best chance to be outside so far. I actually was sad I wasn’t able to cut the grass. No, it wasn’t brain surgery and nothing snapped up there, as far as I know. I look forward to cutting the grass the first time. It’s like a rite of passage. Sure, by August I’ll be cursing my lawnmower. Back in the tail end of 2014, I actually enjoyed our first snowfall. February and five bags of salt later, shoveling became an R-rated experience (for strong language, not nudity).

I did get to enjoy the view from the window last weekend. I loved seeing the beautiful array of colors on the magnolias, cherry blossoms, etc. After a season of a dreary black-and-white world, the sky turns bright blue and sunny, and plants bloom in kaleidoscopic color. It’s like Oz but without the flying monkeys.

I am, once again, looking at the bright side (literally). I’m alive and that grass is still growing. I just think a little more sun will help my normally sunny disposition.