For the last several years my friend Steve and I have often had heated discussions about "That Day". For those wondering what exactly "That Day" is, I will explain. "That Day" is the inevitable and glorious day of the winter when you walk outside and get that incredible feeling that winter is over, and summer is on the way. The day where you can smell, hear, see, and taste better weather. The day when it feels freakishly and unseasonably warm although it's only like 47 degrees. Everyone seems to be out on the streets in jeans and sweatshirts despite the fact that it is indeed still damn cold.
So Steve and I always go back and forth on just what constitutes "That Day". He tends to take a more logical and scientific approach to making his determination where I work with straight gut feeling. Consequently we typically disagree on the merits of the day. These conversations are almost always played out via text message, usually as follows:
Me: Guess What?
Steve: What?
Me: You know.
Steve: Really?
Me: Yea man.
Steve: Not a chance.
Me: Have you been outside?
Steve: Not yet.
Me: Then how do you know?
Steve: There's snow on the ground.
Me: Irrelevant.
Steve: I won't give it to you.
Me: I don't care.
Since we can rarely agree, over time we have developed a system of gradation in measuring the quality of "That Day", based on Stages. A Stage 10 "That Day" is the absolute, unequivocal embodiment of summer's joyous tidings. Any stage below is somewhere else.
I recently declared a Stage Two "That Day". It was warm and sunny, birds were chirping, and URI students were out on the Quad (always a reliable indicator). I don't really care that there was a semi-blizzard the day before or that it was 20 degrees the day after.
For that one shining day, everything around me sparkled like a new birth and spoke to me of the arrival of better things, and the coming of "That Day".
So Steve and I always go back and forth on just what constitutes "That Day". He tends to take a more logical and scientific approach to making his determination where I work with straight gut feeling. Consequently we typically disagree on the merits of the day. These conversations are almost always played out via text message, usually as follows:
Me: Guess What?
Steve: What?
Me: You know.
Steve: Really?
Me: Yea man.
Steve: Not a chance.
Me: Have you been outside?
Steve: Not yet.
Me: Then how do you know?
Steve: There's snow on the ground.
Me: Irrelevant.
Steve: I won't give it to you.
Me: I don't care.
Since we can rarely agree, over time we have developed a system of gradation in measuring the quality of "That Day", based on Stages. A Stage 10 "That Day" is the absolute, unequivocal embodiment of summer's joyous tidings. Any stage below is somewhere else.
I recently declared a Stage Two "That Day". It was warm and sunny, birds were chirping, and URI students were out on the Quad (always a reliable indicator). I don't really care that there was a semi-blizzard the day before or that it was 20 degrees the day after.
For that one shining day, everything around me sparkled like a new birth and spoke to me of the arrival of better things, and the coming of "That Day".
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