OK. We finally have an answer to the question "REALLY?" as it relates to this crazypants weather of ours.
You see, it's my fault. Entirely.
No. Really. I mean it. And once you realize that it truly IS my fault, you will delete me from your PalmPilot (do they still even MAKE those things?) and you'll be able to return to life happy and content that you used to know an idiot that caused all of this m.e.s.s.
As a child, I anticipated winter with the same excitement that I had for Christmas. Winter meant snowpants! And sweaters! And sledding at Faurot Park! Winter was when Dad made perfect fires in the fireplace and I, for once, could sit in front of them with my nose in a book and not hear "Why don't you go outside to play?" every seventeen minutes.
When I came to the hinterlands of Northern East JaBip Indiana to go to college back in the dark ages of 1984, I got quite a kick out of the kids from Southern California and Tampa and other exotic locations walking around campus freezing their bazoombas off and hating every single minute of it. I would chortle madly as I huffed and puffed my way to class all bundled up in my parka, while those poor fools slipped helplessly about in their perfect J Crew pea coats and illogical shoes.
I've been saying "Oh, I LOVE the cold and the snow and the dark winter days!" for years now...all in an attempt to make people think that I come from hearty peasant stock and am nothing, if not, adaptable.
Today it was minus twenty-eight degrees outside and I couldn't see two inches in front of my face when I made the mistake of going out to get the paper. The drifts on the side of my driveway are taller than I am by several feet, and if Stewey rolls his eyes one more time at the limited real estate on which he has to make his deposits, I'm going to FedEx him to Florida.
All done now with the cold and the snow and the whatnot, thankyouverymuch, MotherNature. Can we go back to normal winter now with 30 degrees and just enough white to cover the grass?