Timing is everything
I swear, half the people I know are in Florida right now. I don’t get it. With weather in Maine turning to spring, where is the fun in going to the Sunshine State? I thought the joy of going to Florida was sending photos of beaches and palm trees to your schmuck friends who are still stuck in Maine buried in snow and slush and other related blech. Send me your Florida pics now and I’m only 35% envious and that’s just not a good return on your hard work.

Die, loathsome pile, die!
I say I’m 35% envious of you weirdos in Florida right now and that’s only because in Maine, there are still some hideous snowbanks lingering here and there. Filthy, wretched reminders of winter, they are. They’re mostly found in store parking lots, and whenever I see one I stop what I’m doing long enough to kick, stomp and otherwise harangue the dirty pile of snow to hasten its melting. People get all weird when I do this, although I don’t think I look crazy at ALL screaming at snow mounds in the Walmart parking lot.

It wasn’t me, it was some other guy
It’s this time of year that I miss police scanner chatter the most. In previous, better years, I’d be wheeling around downtown on my motorcycle, listening to the scanner and responding to the exciting stuff. Brawl on Knox Street? I can be there in seconds. Naked man wrestling a dog on Pine? Let’s just scoot over there and check it out. Only now, because police are mean, I’m limited to fire and ambulance calls. And although fire and ambulance guys lead exciting lives, those big dramas are fewer and farther between. I DID get to go over for a wellness check at Walmart recently where some demented dude was reportedly screaming at a snowbank. Spring is when the freaks come out.

I call dibs on the headless Elmo!
You know what else I miss? The big spring cleanup in Lewiston, where a guy could throw out half the junk in his basement, garage or man cave and a city crew would come to take it all away. For a glorious week or so, the city streets would be heaped high with all varieties of detritus until the downtown looked like a Dr. Seuss illustration created while Mr. Seuss was on a bad acid trip. Where else in the world could one behold the sight of an army of eyeless Cabbage Patch dolls sitting atop a rickety old piano with half its keys gone? Where else could you possibly find a six-foot stuffed banana crammed inside an old toilet? Or a balding Christmas tree rising from a battered mattress with the curious stain in the shape of Italy? Spring cleanup week turned downtown Lewiston into an open air museum of wonders!

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