OK, this is my obligatory once-yearly "I hate Winter" post / rant. Please bear with me while I get this out of my system, and then you won't have to hear (read) it again.
(Until next year, that is.)
I hate Winter!
When Sping and Summer are in full bloom, I don't even think about Winter. It's like I forget that such a thing as Winter even exists, and then Fall comes, and then Halloween, and then I suddenly remember it's coming and I absolutely dread it. Like a root canal.
For one thing, it's cold. Butt-ugly cold.
I don't like being cold. I'd rather it be 110 degrees with no air conditioner, sweating my skin off.
I've heard that because of my Nordic ancestry I should be able to stand the cold better than other people, but I don't believe it. Maybe I have thin blood or something.
You have to wear too many clothes in the Winter. Sweatshirts, sweaters, Long Johns, gloves, scarves, hats. I don't think we were meant to be wearing that much fabric. If I was meant to be in cold weather, I should have been born with a fur coat.
And the snow is a pain in the ass. Shoveling sidewalks, sweeping snow off the porch, brushing snow off the car, de-icing the windshield, sprinkling salt on the pavement.
Oh, sure, the snow makes everything look pretty right after it lands, but two days later you have big piles of dirty snow all over the place from the plows and black slush on the side of the roads making the city streets look extra ugly.
Kids love to play in the snow, but that's just because they don't know any better. Kids will also eat detergent if you let them.
Just like skydivers hurtling to their possible destruction disquise their (natural) fear of death into a feeling of "exhileration" when they jump from a plane, people try to fool themselves that wintertime is "fun" when it really isn't.
A perfect example is these two ladies in the restaurant just yesterday.
Lady #1: "My, it's brisk out there today!"and I just wanted to say, "It's not 'brisk'. Lipton tea is 'brisk'. And the only 'bracing' thing about the wind is that you have to brace yourself to go into it. And what the hell is 'crisp', anyway? Potato chips are 'crisp'! The wind is not 'crisp' and the only way it's 'invigorating' is that you're using all your vigor to get the hell out of it. It's fuggin' cold! If we all had any sense we'd be in California or Florida or someplace else warm!"
Lady #2: "It sure is! The wind is bracing, isn't it?"
Lady #1: "Yes, it's crisp, but it's so invigorating!"
I didn't say any of that, of course, but I was biting my tongue the entire time.
All I know is that I'm praying for Spring.
And if that fuggin' groundhog sees his shadow again this year, I'm taking a trip to Puxatawney and strangling him with my own two hands.
There! I feel better now.