Spring is fighting its way through the gray skies of Stockholm. And it shows everywhere you look.
The obvious sign was the changing of the clocks. Finally. Now it gets dark a lot later. Sweden just sprung forward Sunday morning. Which I was actually awake for. Luckily, McDonald’s did not immediately adhere to the change and I was able to get two chicken burgers and a medium fries. Which was exactly what I needed at 3/4 in the morning.
Of course, it wasn’t just the changing of the clocks. Cafes and restaurants throughout town have started setting up their uteservering. Outdoor service. Suddenly, the chairs and tables that will fill whenever the sun comes out have invaded the sidewalks.
Having these chairs on the sidewalks is to my benefit. Because I am a sweaty guy. And this is the time of spring when I’m just a little confused. It’s still cold enough in the mornings that you think you might need a warm jacket. But by the time you’ve hustled to catch the bus, you have a light sweat going. And by you, I mean me.
When you catch the bus, and are the last person on, you sit yourself down next to someone who gives you the evil eye because they actually have to move their bag from the last available seat in the bus. That’s when it hits you. And again, by you, I mean me. It’s the post-exercise sweats.
You know the ones. You’ve been outside, hustling along, not thinking too much of your rising body temperature. But the second you end up in doors, whether it’s the office or the bus, your body gets pissed. Why did you wear a winter jacket? It’s the end of March. Idiot. And it punishes you by pouring sweat out of every sweat gland. By the time you get to work your forehead is glistening, your nice dark blue dress shirt is showing off the telltale signs of a sweaty back. It’s a wonderful way to start the day.
Tomorrow you should wear a light jacket. And by you, I mean me.
Welcome to Sweden. And the signs of spring.
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