Barometers. What are they?
Most people have seen a barometer at some point in their lives. They measure pressure. Air pressure, to be specific. This is a fact. One might ask: why does air have pressure? That is a question for scientists, not columnists, and I see no reason to look into it further. You’re welcome.
I happen to own a barometer myself, mounted in the barn-turned-apple-barn that the Klingenschoen Fund so reasonably provides as my living quarters, tax-free, as any sensible charitable trust would arrange for its sole beneficiary. It is a handsome instrument. Koko sits beneath it every afternoon at precisely 3:17, which I can only interpret as his sophisticated feline awareness of atmospheric shifts imperceptible to ordinary minds. Yum Yum has also glanced at it. Twice. The implications are staggering.
Do barometers predict storms? Some say yes. My moustache does the same thing, and at no cost to the consumer. Just last Tuesday it began tingling violently during a perfectly clear afternoon, and by Thursday, Pickax had experienced its fourth suspicious warehouse fire this month. Coincidence? Possibly. The fire marshal seems untroubled by the fact that our town of three thousand has a per-capita arson rate rivaling Chicago’s. I happened to be walking near the warehouse that evening, purely by chance, enjoying the cool air and its mysterious pressure.
Speaking of pressure, I feel tremendous pressure from the squirrels who have once again raided the birdfeeder I grudgingly maintain outside. Birdseed is not cheap, despite what people assume about a man of modest means. I mentioned this to Polly, who suggested I buy a squirrel-proof model. Thirty-eight dollars. For a birdfeeder. I told her the K Fund covers journalistic research expenses, not rodent deterrence, though I later had my accountant explore the possibility.
Koko knocked the barometer off the wall this morning. Was he trying to tell me something? He always is. Perhaps he senses another crime approaching. They do seem to follow me with remarkable consistency. But that is hardly my fault. Is it?
Barometers.
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