The Winter of Our Discontent

The honeymoon is over. The snow that inconvenienced us in December and forced the cancellation of our trip to Florida was still considered picturesque at that point.

Four school cancellations, three leaky windows, two major snow storms, and a partridge in a pear tree an ice storm later, some of the “fun” has gone out of it. Icicles nearly the size of redwoods adorn our house and every other building in town. The skies are gray. The snow banks are so high–after nearly four FEET of snow in three weeks–that turning onto a street is a death-defying act. My high school boy nearly crashed his car into one such snow bank in our driveway today because of black ice. We haven’t had mail delivery in over a week because, well, our mailbox was (and still is) temporarily “unavailable” (i.e., buried repeatedly by the helpful town snowplow).

Does this look like anybody’s idea of fun? I know that winter has its own unique charms: drinking hot tea, wearing Uggs, snuggling under a blanket to watch a Mad Men marathon, for example. I get it. But I’m more than ready to trade this in for some warm sunshine and capris!

And yet, I see that four-letter word again in tomorrow night’s forecast…!

Help. Me.