As I walked out my door this morning, I realized that I could put my pansies and rosemary, etc. back out on the stoop. I’ll probably be able to leave them there all week as I leave to go home for Thanksgiving.

It was another one of those surreal moments that come around when I realize that I’m having complete dissonance with the weather.

Global warming.

I just don’t see how anyone can possibly question its validity at this point. I recently helped to work on a play where a woman who was dead and in the Underworld. She was hugged by her granddaughter, whom she no longer recognized. After the embrace, she stepped back and said, “How funny. Like warm snow.” I thought about that line this morning as I walked away from my house in a light jacket and the absence of mittens. Will I have to describe snow to my niece when she’s my age?

I wanted to kick myself as I realized that, despite my best intentions, I hadn’t been able to get my act together enough to walk into town today. Too much running around to be done. I think, in the end, it’s the errands that are my ecological footprint, rather than the commute.

And then, as I came into town, I passed a young co-ed on the street walking along in a tank top. It made me think of another great piece of art which is a scary-as-hell cautionary tale for where we might be headed–“Oryx & Crake” by Margaret Atwood. It rather foreshadows our future in terms of global warming, capitalism, and biological research all at the same time actually. A great read. But, it’ll keep you up nights, I’ll tell you.

This is the way the world ends. Not with a bang, but a tank top.