I am only 31,
As I was (half) listening to NPR on the way home, I caught the local weather forecast.
“. . . and tomorrow’s high will be 26.”
Nah, that can’t possibly be right. It’s colder than a witch’s tit out there now and it’s 33. Twenty six must be the low. I’ll check the paper’s forecast.
It said 30. The local tv news says 28.
I accept that I live at roughly 42deg latitude. I accept that we have seasons. I accept that summer is long since over and I have no right to expect it to be warm outside today. BUT TWENTY-SIX?!?!?!
It usually takes me until February to hate the cold with this much passion. I wish I could get as much of a jump on my holiday shopping as I am on the weather.
Excuse me for a moment, I have to yell at the children for de-stuffing the throw pillows and shoving the polyfill down Anna’s shirt.
Anna still believes that cauliflower grows on the moon. Today a coworker gave me a brilliant way to entertain gullible children in warmer weather. It involves convincing them that if they sprinkle salt on a bird’s tail, it won’t be able to fly away, rendering it easy to catch. I am so going to try this as soon as the weather is reasonable again. Perhaps in May.