Don't get me wrong. I love snow. I really do. I wait for it each year and feel like a kid when it finally gets here. But, seriously, enough already. We're having something called thundersnow tonight and they're predicting almost 20 inches of the stuff. This just after 8 inches two days ago and preceding an entire week of snow. If I ever meet that friggan' ground hog I'm going to cook and eat him.
My mood is grey and I am surly. I don't even like myself right now so it's hard for me to like anyone else. I am in need of serious sunshine. If it ever shines again, I will run naked through it's warming rays alarming the neighbors and scaring the children with gay abandon.
I know why bears hibernate. I am becoming one. If I could I would live off my stores of fat until spring only aiding my hunger with the occasional vodka goody. I do not wish to shovel anything, anymore. I don't want to hear the dulcet tones of snow blowers at 4 am. I hate, loathe and despise all snow plows and the white film of salt they leave on my car. I'm tired of wearing boots. And long underwear. And gloves. There is nothing even remotely quaint or nostalgic about the crunch, crunch, crunch of snow beneath my feet. I am conspiring against all weathermen because, while I know they did not create it, I am holding them fully responsible. I want this to stop...NOW.
1 comment:
if bears had vodka, they'd hibernate year round
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