It was unexpectedly windy today, no doubt because I swept the garden patio at work this morning. The wind spent several hours eliminating all traces of my labors, kicking up leaves in a series of dust devils and spitting all manner of debris onto the pavement.
It was all right by me actually. I like windy days.
At one point, a visitor came out and attempted to light up a cigarette. I informed him that this wasn't allowed. He groused and grumbled, but complied. As he left, I could hear him muttering, "damn environmentalists!"
I almost laughed out loud. I contemplated toying with him a bit, but decided it wasn't worth it. It sure was tempting though. Tomorrow is my last day on the job, so I could argue with impunity if I wanted to. There's just something about people who mutter half-understood slogans under their breaths that amuses me to no end. An environmentalist is, after all, a person takes action to prevent our environment from being compromised. In this case, I guess, an environmentalist is somebody who prevents children from being exposed to second hand smoke from the cigarettes of people who can't master their addictions long enough to enjoy time at a children's museum with their families without sneaking out to the garden to light up.

I guess I should go easy on the guy. A lot of people are visiting from out of town for the holidays. He's probably from a red state.