Tomorrow is Saturday, which means I'm not going to blog. But tomorrow is also Groundhog Day, which means I have to blog about it a day in advance. Such are the obligations of a blogger who somehow got duped into talking about Groundhog Day every year.
But it's only February 1st, and there's really not anything to say. Nothing's happened yet. Somewhere in the middle of nowhere in Pennsylvania, they're setting up their little groundhog festivities, but for now, Phil is just stewing in his cage, silently composing some Kafka-esque novel about a groundhog who is proudly displayed one day a year and then locked in a pitch black cellar.
So that leaves us here, staring at a virtual "page" in cyberspace that's really not connected to anything, pondering the nature and worth of our existence, waiting for a groundhog to fulfill the desires of our hearts and make all our dreams come true. And tomorrow, just like every year, the groundhog will predict six more weeks of winter, and we'll slump home, secretly hoping that the groundhog will escape and get run over by a train or something.
Such is life. Life without groundhogs would be significantly less depressing, like instead of Groundhog Day we'd have Free Pizza For Everyone Day.
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