I admit I'm feeling a little sorry for those who call the Fiji Islands home. The more snow we have here in Connecticut, the sorrier for you I am feeling so much so that a few more inches of snow around here and I may find myself forced to fly to your island in the sun and extend my deepest condolences to each of you personally and individually. It will give me a break from all the feeling sorry for myself I've been doing lately.
About three weeks ago, when someone gave the snow globe in which we live a rather violent shake from which we've still not recovered, I went out early on a Saturday morning to shovel still-falling snow as the temperatures had started to rise making much of what fell more rain than snow and soaking me to the bone.
That set me up for a seriously debilitating chest cold whose effects like Banquo's ghost still linger and from which I'm still not free. Meaning that right now my better half keeps an eagle eye on me whenever I make "I'm going out to shovel snow" noises accompanied by a very serious lecture delivered at no more than 20 centimeters away from my nose at a rather attention-getting volume.
This isn't necessarily the winter of our discontent (that was 1995-96 which was hellacious with about 115 inches of snow) but it's getting closer and closer to it every day. I have no idea if they have outrigger canoes at the Fiji Islands, and if they do, if any of them come equipped with snow tires.
But if that were to be the case, and there was a place available in one of those outriggers, feel free to row on by. I'll wait for you out on the porch and wade through a snowbank. I'll even wear my best Hawaiian print shirt to demonstrate my sincerity.