Well, it’s about time. Tonight, according to weather.com, there’s a Winter Weather Advisory in effect until 4:04 a.m. EST! Yes, that’s right. Four-oh-four. Not 4:00. Not 4:15. Not even 4:05, which would be just slightly less ridiculous in its precision. And tomorrow’s forecast is for a Wintry Mix. (Warning: May contain traces of peanut.)
I, for one (or two or three, depending on if you’re crossing your eyes or not), am thrilled. Couldn’t be happier. I’m sick of this “unseasonably warm” garbage. Sick of seeing pasty, wan legs in the middle of March. Sick of toes (yes, some girls have already exposed theirs). Sick of hearing people say, “Oh, it’s so beautiful out!” when yet another day insists on reaching into the 60s. Yesterday I actually read on someone’s website (someone I don’t even know, but he lives in Manhattan too) that he was tired of the cold winter weather. I don’t know. Maybe he lives uptown, and the climate’s different above 24th Street? You never know.
I just hope I wake up tomorrow (well, yes, I suppose I could end the sentence right there) and see snow piled on the skylights. I hope I look out my front window and see evidence of winter. I hope I see coats buttoned as high as they can button, zipped as high as they can zip, pants stuffed into boots. Red noses, ducked heads. Hats. I hope I see a hapless tourist somewhere freezing his feet off in skippy little sneakers. His wife yelling, “I told you we should of [sic] packed the coats!” His kids whining.
Hey, if the weather makes just one person miserable, then I’ll be happy. But the more of them there are, the merrier I’ll be.