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I love living on the east coast for a lot of reasons but the
biggest one has always been because we get to enjoy all four seasons here. My
kids get to go sledding in the winter and swimming in the summer. They get
crunchy leaves in the fall and the renewal of the Earth in spring. I love the
heat (especially the extreme hot temperatures!) and while I hate being cold, I’ve
generally tolerated winter fairly well. It’s only a single season after all.
Until winter 2017/2018 started kicking my ass.
I am not sure why, but this winter seems to be extremely
heinous. Could it be because the temperature’s favorite setting is deep freeze?
Maybe. Is it because it won’t f%*#ing stop snowing? Quite possible. Is it
because I’m getting older and my body is slowly preparing myself for retirement
and moving to Florida with the rest of the nation’s retirees? I don’t know.
What I do know is that the cold seems to have settled into my bones
permanently. I’m tired of single digit temps. I cringe at the thought of
another bleeping snowstorm not to mention the fact that I’m seriously
contemplating buying an arctic snowsuit. I have to psyche myself up to take a
brief 15 minute walk outside for some exercise.
Because I’ve lived here my entire life, I think that
means I’m supposed to have some sort of super immunity to the snow and cold.
It’s like one of those ‘Meanwhile in NY” memes I’ve seen floating around the
Internet. You know, the ones where the South shuts down over 3 inches of snow
and we’re barbecuing with 3 feet of snow in the backyard? Yeah, like that. The
winter is starting to drive me crazy. I’m losing what little sanity I have
managed to save over the years. It doesn’t help that January seems to be the
longest month ever. Is it March yet? Because I feel like January has been at
least twice as long as it should have been.
 |
| Yeah, this is the one I was thinking about. |
And if you open your mouth and a complaint about the weather
falls out, it’s bound to be in your grandmother’s voice. Crabbing about the
economy, weather, politics, and “kids these days” is something that is reserved
for a specific age, one that generally comes with grandchildren, retirement,
and crotchety old person-ness. I’m too damn young to qualify for that. So the
weather is driving me insane and I’m not allowed to complain about it for
another 18 years or so.
It’s not just the weather that’s making me lose my
marbles, it’s the cabin fever. Being cooped up inside all the time with rabid
children and stir crazy pets. I’d love to send them all outside but Mother
Nature flipped her bitch switch and gave us a temperature with a wind-chill
factor of negative 5. This is the weather so cold that your snot instantly
freezes to the inside of your nostrils if you take so much as a small breath
outside. And if it’s not too cold, then it’s too dark. Sure, the days are starting
to get longer, but the sun is still cutting out from work pretty early. By the time we are home from
work and school and dinner is done, it’s midnight for all intents and purposes.
The house, which normally has ample room and space for five people to maintain peaceful cohabitation, starts shrinking until everyone is in everyone else’s business. (You
can’t hide. They will find you.)
As if that wasn’t enough to earn me a nice white jacket and
a pretty, padded room, the house is starting to check things off its “Make My
Owners Daft” list. In the last few weeks we have had four light bulbs go out in three different fixtures, a carbon monoxide detector
died, the basement door handle refuses to stay on, and the front step is taking
a beating from the subzero weather and is disintegrating before our very eyes.
If we manage to make it through this winter intact, it’s possible that the
house may not. There’s a giant conspiracy between Mother Nature, our kids, and
our house to move us to the funny farm.
Yes, I am ready for my tinfoil hat so that the aliens can’t
zap my brain.
