It’s that time of year again and the dreaded day is not far off. Could be Sept. 27 or Sept. 30. Sometimes it’s Oct. 3 or Oct. 11. I never know what day it will actually be; I just get up one morning and I know it has arrived.
It’s the day I take my summer clothes down to the basement and bring my winter clothes up to my bedroom. This might be a good time to breeze through your paper and see if there is a more worthwhile article to read. On the other hand, you might be one of many who are saying, “Gee, I guess I’m not the only one who does this. I better stick this column on my fridge.”
The first big issue is how to time this annual event. I usually wait until October, but last year I had some free time in September, so I tried to sneak it in and get it over with. I was pretty proud of myself until we had a hot spell. Then I felt pretty stupid at the neighborhood barbecue party in black corduroys and a black turtleneck on an 85-degree day.