Yesterday it was spring. The high temperature reached the low 40s, the snow melted, and I had to bring an umbrella to school because it was raining. Raining.
But my celebration was short-lived. Actually, I didn't celebrate at all, because I know Mother Nature's sadistic ways by now. Today we're back to winter with the standard flurries and dry air. By Friday we'll be enjoying a sunny start to the weekend with a high of 15°. And next week?
I hate that icon.
This means three things: 1) I need to get to the Recycling Center before we're blocked in again. 2) I would make the least popular weather girl on television because my face has the ugliest, most angry/depressed/resigned expression on it right now. And 3) January is officially my least favorite month in the year. September is a close runner up because it's impossible to sleep in the heat and humidity, but at least you can go about your regular business without an overhanging fear of imminent injury. Hey, those are the months of my parents' birthdays. I guess my family just has really great luck (BTW: Happy Birthday three days late, Mom!)
I have a presentation this afternoon and a backlog of activities on my To Do list (treadmill, wash dishes, find ways to make money...) so I can't sulk for too long. Right now I'm going to enter the HGTV Dream House Sweepstakes and fantasize about taking the million dollar cash option (spend my winters in Vermont? I don't think so) and using it to escape to somewhere warm and dry.