It’s the first warm weekend of spring, and all the neighbours suddenly forget how to behave outdoors.

The joggers come out like they’ve been training for the Olympics, couples can be heard arguing in the front yard, and some of the men are shirtless  pretending to get up a sweat but are really swigging beer on the patio.

Three men are  chatting on the footpath. One bloke says to his mate: “I love spring. The days get longer, daylight saving kicks in, you can wear lighter clothing, and suddenly everyone’s outside acting like they’ve discovered vitamin D for the first time.”

The mate nods in agreement, but sneezes so hard he almost dislocates his neck. He says: “Yeah, spring is great … unless you have allergies. Then it’s basically Mother Nature waterboarding you with pollen.”

Meanwhile, the third friend chimes in: “You two are missing the big picture. Spring isn’t about flowers or fresh starts. It’s the one season where you’re pressured to ‘get in shape for summer.’ Like, oh thanks, spring, I really needed a three-month reminder that my body is eighty per cent pies, beer and cinnamon rolls.”

They all laugh, but then fall silent, looking around at the busy street, pollen clouding the air.

Finally, the first bloke sighs and says: “Yeah … spring isn’t really the season of renewal. It’s the season where the Earth thaws out and immediately tries to kill us—just with better lighting.”

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