November: I wish it would snow. It’s so gray and dark and dirty. Some snow would be pretty. And would also cover up the leaves I haven’t raked.
Early December: Come on white Christmas!
Mid-December: Snowflakes! Oooo, pretty! Let’s go sledding! Snowball fight!
Late December: It’s so cold my car won’t start. Where the hell’s the sun? It’s been dark for, like, 8 weeks now.
Early January: Okay, we had the white Christmas. The snow can melt now. I’m done with winter.
Mid-January: Suffering from a bruised ass due to a fall on ice, I begin researching warm weather vacation destinations. Just looking at pictures of warm beaches is enough to make me weep.
Late January: Damn, it’s cold. I hate this grumble grumble weather. I hate the snow. I hate the cold. I hate my boots and my coat and my hat and would like to see the sun SOMETIME SOON!
Early February: More snow. Awesome - I hadn't gotten my fill of shoveling yet. Followed by subzero temperatures? Fan-fucking-tastic. And Punxsutawney Phil, with his little shadow guaranteeing another six weeks of winter, can kiss my frozen, bruised, so-white-it-glows butt.
Mid-February: Was that thunder? In February? The hell?
To be continued…
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