Kitchen floors, muddy dogs and fog

I know that the passing from winter to spring is a messy business. I understand, intellectually, that when snow melts on the lawn and the yard and in front of the garage, it is going to turn frozen dirt into mud.

But that doesn’t mean I have to like it.

Yes, it is nice to feel warmer temperatures, nice to see snow piles shrinking. I could, however, do without the giant muddy dog prints on my kitchen floor.

I tried to teach Jeffrey how to wipe his feet, but he won’t. Our old black lab, Dale, used to come in and stand there until someone wiped off her fuzzy toes. But Jeff won’t do it.

I bought a mat and put it on the back step. It states, “Wipe your paws.” Then I told Matt to teach his dog how to read, but apparently that didn’t work either.

So my kitchen floor is decorated with dog prints the size of my palms. This too shall pass, I know. I just wish it would pass quickly.

I ran into a gentleman this morning at the gas station in Fulda who said we would have sunshine by Sunday and temperatures in the 50s by the end of next week. He guaranteed it. I’m not sure if the man has some kind of “in” with Mother Nature, or if he has some other way of knowing what the weather will bring other than watching the predictions, but since I like the idea, I’m willing to go along with it.

Tell everyone you know that by next weekend it will by sunny and in the 50s. Maybe Mother Nature will give in to the pressure and do just that.

On a side note, the constant fog has been interesting. I have felt like I’m driving in a long, gray tunnel as I travel from Avoca to Worthington and back each day. Since hurtling through the thick fog at 60 miles an hour seems like a bad idea, I’ve slowed it down, but several times I have ended up with someone behind me riding my bumper.

Please, back off.

It seems easy to be the lead car, but that is not always the case. In life, following is always easier than leading, but throughout history there are many examples of followers who want the leader’s job.

Next time you feel the need to tailgate someone you think isn’t going fast enough, tamp down the urge. Or go ahead and pass them, then take up the lead so everyone can follow your tail lights. Either way, get off my bumper.

Me, I’ll hang back and play it a bit safer. I want to get home to my family, and if it takes a few minutes longer to do it when visibility is horrible, then so be it.