I think it was still June when I started to get sad because I knew winter was coming. I hate winter so much. I hate the cold. I hate the dry. I hate the salt residue on the cars and the roads and the buildings. I hate the way my hair gets staticky. I hate pretty much everything about it.
I mean, summers in DC aren’t necessarily a picnic, what with the humidity and heat, but I LOVE it. My body regulates itself poorly and I am ALWAYS cold. Quite obviously, winter makes me sad. This winter in particular has been incredibly frustrating. It has been intensely cold. There has been a lot of snow. School seems to be only rarely in session and open on time. And when it is, at least one of my kids always seems to be coming home sick.
(Today it’s Jack.)
Then there was the day my brakes froze up and I rear-ended the car in front of me.
And the morning I hit a deer, which I can only blame on winter in the sense that I was driving to hockey practice and hockey season is in the winter.
There is the fact that about half of the people in my community don’t shovel their sidewalks, making it incredibly difficult to go running without killing myself.
Also, I broke Quinn’s coat by washing it. I know. Evidently zippers aren’t made to be washed or they fall off. This led to a multi-store search through racks of short-sleeved shirts to find one of the three winter coats left on the shelf because it’s February and that means it is swimsuit season. (Bonus! Coat was 80% off, costing me $20. You know, because winter is over.)
I hate having to harass my kids into coats and hats every time we leave the house and that fight to get them to put socks on their feet (under the Crocs that they wear almost everywhere except for school) is never ending.
All of which is mostly just a long way of saying, “Waaaaahhhhhhh. Make it stop. Spring. Please. Spring. *incoherent mumbles about scarves and ice and the way I look when I’m wearing a ponytail and a hat*”