After last evening’s cometary disappointment due in no small part to an overabundance of clouds hovering spitefully in the western sky—right where the comet would otherwise have been visible, I arose early this morning hoping to take advantage of one of the last two chances we here in Texas have of seeing this celestial wonder before it plunges headlong around the sun and moves its dusk-and-dawn show to the southern hemisphere.  Much to my chagrin, the pre-dawn hour at which I stepped outside to determine the viability of my plan offered an even less hospitable environment.  A blanket of thick, heavy, low clouds had been laid across North Texas during the overnight hours.  Standing on the patio and staring into the night sky toward the west, my eyes feasted upon the mundane view of a blank canvas smothered in darkness.  A flat tent-like surface stretched out in all directions, reaching and seething with invisible hands, flowing in silent disharmony with my plans.

“I shake my fist at you clouds!” I disdainfully said with a large dash of irritation in my voice.

How dare they!  How dare they invade at such an inopportune time.  After an uninvited rabble of their kind so rudely interrupted my plans the night before, was it too much to ask that they stand aside momentarily—just for a few brief moments before dawn—so I might catch a glimpse or two of the comet, and perhaps even capture a photograph?  I think not.  That certainly is not too much to ask, and yet there I stood looking at the endless, flat bottom of cloud cover pulled from the four corners of the planet.

What had I done to deserve such treatment from this miserable mob of moisture?  Had I hurt it in some way?  Had I somehow insulted their heritage or intellect?  Something else entirely?

It mattered not.  The deed was done and could not be undone.

With my brow furrowed and my shoulders hunched, an air of defeat hanging from me like stench, I turned and went back inside.  Just before I closed the door, I yet again looked up at the sky, lifted my closed fist to it, and said, “I really do shake my fist at you clouds.  That was rather unsporting of you.”

I then stepped back, closed the door, and went about the start of my day, albeit a bit earlier than usual.  I was resolved that there would be no comet.  Our forecast calls for increasing clouds (how can such a thing be considering that’s all we have now?).  Added to that is the threat of rain with growing chances throughout the day and into the early part of next week.

Therefore, in honor of this vile deed and the comet’s apparent disinclination to show itself to me, I am officially renaming Comet McNaught to Comet Mc-NOT!  So there.