Tomorrow is March 1, my very favorite day of the year. It’s the furthest I will be from February for an entire twelve months, and even just thinking about it I instantly get a tiny little spring in my step. It’s as though I’ve been freed from the solitary confinement of winter and am being released into the hopeful potential of spring. A loving embrace, if you will.
Not this year.
I’ve worked very hard to stay positive this winter, and for the most part I’ve been successful. Instead of slogging through the days I’ve been able to cope well enough that it shouldn’t take me half the summer to recover. Using spring and summer days to haul your ass out of winter depression is a poor use of spring and summer days. I speak from experience here. But this winter, this endless winter, is doing its damnedest to pull me down.
Trying to muster up a bit of hope I’ve been living in the long term forecast.
It’s not working. Instead of finally seeing a tiny glimmer of hopeful warmth, I see this:
Dafuq? March? You’re letting me down here! You’re harshing my mellow, stomping on my dreams, peeing in my Cheerios. I know the whole “In Like a Lion, Out Like A Lamb” thing, but let me tell you…if I don’t see a prancing little lamb here pretty damn soon I’m firing up the grill for some lion kabobs. Metaphorically speaking, of course. I do not condone the grilling of The King of Beasts. I also do not have propane for the aforementioned grill, and my entire yard is buried under…well, it’s safe to say that’s no longer snow. It’s some berky fusion of Formerly Known As Light and Fluffy Frozen Precipitation, ice, dirt, pet safe ice-melt, and broken dreams. And dog poop.
I’m ready to sweat. I want to bitch and moan about the heat index for a change. I gotta know just how much skin this 40 year old mother of two can expose before people go blind and/or call the authorities. I’m itching to beat hell out of mosquitos, fired up to soothe sunburn, and am foaming at the mouth to play the “from what new and socially unacceptable body part and/or crevice will I perspire today?” game.
There are margaritas to consume, toes to paint, animal flesh to grill to perfection (but not lion), cars to drive with the a/c blasting and the windows down. There are gardens to plant, walks to take, outdoor concerts to attend (and perform).
Winter, you’ve had a good run. You’ve made your point, several times over. Trust me, we got it with the first polar vortex, you didn’t need to send it to us twice more. And dropping several inches of snow on us the first weekend of March is just sadistic. WE GET IT:
Move along now, winter. The southern hemisphere is waiting; I understand they had one hell of a hot summer season and are awaiting you with great glee and open arms. I’d help you pack, but yeah, I don’t like you so please expect to find your shit out on the lawn.
Under this weekend’s fresh blanket of snow.