The first day of spring may have arrived two months ago now, but today was the first really warm spring day in the Seattle area. The thermometer topped 70 degrees for the first time — briefly — and outside smelled of cut lawns and the lemony smell of things blooming.

Let’s say tomorrow is the end of world. It would be a good day to end things because today was springy enough for me to make a list of what I need from Home Despot to fence off the veggies from the Beast With Four Legs, warm enough for windows to be opened all over the house and for our Friday night dessert to be ice cream, and for me to sit with the Shabbat candles in my room with the blinds open and have enough light until about 9 p.m. to do a crossword. I can’t complain.

But I doubt the world will end tomorrow. Wait. What I mean is I doubt any one person can figure out what day the world will end based on words that have been mucked with and probably mistranslated  until the end result is like a kids’ game of telephone for the last couple thousand years. What makes one man think he can figure out what no one else has over all that time anyway?

I think what bothers me about people like Tom Evans is the cockiness they exhibit in knowing what will be. I’d love to know the future — or at least know that the hard in my life will become easier (either because I become more adept at handling it or because I win the lottery and Liam Neeson decides he can’t live without me. And my dog is mysteriously and instantaneously trained) but I mistrust anyone who says they do. It’s one reason why I think politicians are awful by nature: they make promises based on predictions of the way they say things will be at some point down the road. Economics is full of rules that start with the phrase, “all things being equal”, but all things are never equal. There are too many variables and parameters that will change or might change. Stop with the predictions.

Here’s the only predictions I believe these days: that it will be a cool wet spring in Seattle, more amenable to my broccoli, spinach, and cabbage than melons and tomatoes. So I’ll go up and sit in my room as the sun sets and hope the rain holds off long enough tomorrow for me to get the cabbage, kohlrabi and beans planted out. I predict the slugs will be thrilled before realizing the end of their world is coming in the form of Sluggo and beer traps.