Waiting Not So Patiently for Spring

While Killer waits and dreams of warmer days chasing vermin of various proportions and sleeping in the sun, Mr. and Mrs. Hall continue to wage their daily battle against the elements, in an attempt at making their appointed rounds.
“Shall we go in our street togs or slip into fancier dress?” asked Mrs. H. Invitations are often unclear these days and it’s hard to tell what’s appropriate sometimes. “Whatever you think is called for”, came the reply; but try as she might, Mrs. H. could simply not recall what was the proper etiquette required for Grand Openings of Warehouses, including especially Casket Warehouses in Obscure Neighborhoods. Given that it was nearly zero by the time they left work, with the promise of further precipitous drops in temperature and/or wind chills- they opted for business attire. Batesville enjoys a prominent position in the world of funeral merchandise and their affairs usually reflect a stature and confidence secure in that knowledge. The opening of their new warehouse, however, was slightly less glamorous, so the Halls stayed just long enough to familiarize themselves with the new products, comment on the state of the industry and acquire yet another set of coffee mugs and magnets. “Alvord House?” suggested Mr. H, but it was hard to tell whether Mrs. Hall was shaking in accordance or just shivering furiously.
The Alvord House was busy as usual- the locals used to say you can heave a brick in any direction and hit at least five people you know there on any given night, but they have recently taken to discouraging that practice- and it wasn’t long before the Halls were seated next to acquaintances of theirs; Mr. and Mrs. Powers and a number of the little Powers. The Powers immediately bemoaned the fact that Christopher was in basic training now and not at their beck and call; Mr. Powers was a regular customer of “Rx Machina” (Chris’ computer repair service) and the prospect of facing the future sans Chris as his safety net was leaving him not a little shaken. Mrs. Hall said she truly sympathized, having lost Chris’ computer savvy as well, but suggested they will have to learn to move from being the Technical Powers to just the Powers That Be.
Last weekend, after turning out the lights, filing the last DC and, pointing the big black car westward, the Halls dashed on over in time for their favorite Superbowl venue: Digger’s bar. Mrs. Hall had snarfed up enough 3-D glasses, available at various local grocery stores, for most of the crowd and after separating them on the perforations, handed them out. It was a good thing, too; one: because the 3-D adverts were a big hit this year, and two: because Digger had just purchased a large HDTV for the family room and the computer-enhanced commercials were the perfect way to display its HD prowess. The Monitor is happy to report that after so many years of donating to Digger’s coffers, Mrs. H. finally managed to reap something on the happy side of the ledger, and came home fifty dollars richer for the football boards this year. Having eaten horseradish laden deviled eggs til their eyes watered, the Halls shook hands all around, hugged the host and took their winnings to retire home.