Friday, October 30, 2009

Winter - you can't make me like it.

Winter is coming. Soon. I can’t tell you how much I am opposed to that.

I wouldn’t have a problem if winter stuck to its three-month seasonal allotment. It CLEARLY says on the calendar that winter starts on December 21 and ends on March 21. This is a LIE.

I’ve started to think of winter as an unwelcome houseguest. You get the call in October:

“You’re coming when? Next week? NO. That is NOT going to work for me. You’re not scheduled to come for another 8 weeks… I’m looking at the calendar right now. Do you even OWN a calendar?

“Right. So basically you’re saying there’s NOTHING I can do to dissuade you from coming early. You’ve got your own key and you’re coming in whether I like it or not. Charming."

So you sort of accept that winter has arrived, and it sticks around for a few months, at which point it has clearly worn out its welcome.

So you broach the subject: “So, not to be rude, but when are you leaving?

“Uh huh. You’re not sure. Maybe March, maybe April, maybe May. Super.”

And every year, I fall for the same old trick. There’s a nice day in February or March and I think: This is it. This is the year that Winter leaves early. This is the year that Spring arrives promptly on March 21. Never mind that it has NEVER happened before.

And sure enough, just as quickly as my optimism arrives, it is squashed, trampled, WHITED OUT by a blizzard….followed by rain and freezing rain.

“You’re back. I thought I’d seen the last of you for this year. Are you not tired of all the blustering and the biting and the snowing? Could you NOT give it a rest for another year? Don’t you have friends in Australia you could visit?”

I could stomach winter far more easily if it were equally balanced by my good friend, summer. But oh no, summer breezes in just long enough to make you fall in love and then it’s gone, leaving you heartbroken and cold, wondering how the hell you can possibly be shovelling again.

Winter’s coming. I get it. I can do nothing to influence its arrival or departure. I'll play along, wearing my coat and mitts. But I’ll be damned if I have to like it.

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