Oh, sure. My brain is well-aware that winter is not over. My New England common sense, supported by generations of hardy New England ancestors, tells me we have at least two more big storms in store for us because that's the way it usually is.
But ...
I'm done. Winter and I are so over. Mother Nature and I are not going to be friends again until it's really, truly spring. Since I declared all-out war on Mother Nature a little over a week ago, we've had a couple of cold snaps but several really gorgeous days. Days in the 40s. Days of sitting outside and reading or chatting on the phone. Days of driving with windows down and even a couple of days when house windows have been opened wide.
Today March and I came to an agreement when I March-ed the shovels back down to the basement. They are no longer accessible just inside the cellar door; they are now dozens of steps away from my fingertips, dozens of steps away from the walkway and the driveway.
Let me tell you, I mean it. I really mean it. Winter, you and I are finished. Kaput. So keep your stinking snow to yourself. You can spit flakes at me and coat and dust all you want, but there won't be another plowable nor shovelable showfall this season if I have anything to say about it.
As for this ridiculous cycle of frigid, windy, sub-zero temperatures -- Any damn time you want to knock that bad shit off, Mother Nature, I'm all for it. I don't mind running outside and starting my car when it's -4 out. I mean, some days it's the only exercise I get. Enough is enough, though. We've had more below-zero days this winter than we've had in the last decade, or so it seems. Is that all you've got? Mother Nature, you're lame, and I'm over you. So incredibly over you.
When it blizzards in a week or two, blame me. Go ahead. Point and laugh and remind me how I pissed off Mother Nature by taunting her and hiding my shovels where she couldn't find them.
I can take it.
What I cannot take, however, is any more damn marathon shoveling sessions this winter, especially since the brutal shoveling has all occurred after dark. Therefore, the shovels are gone. Kaput. And so are you. I dare you to dump more snow. I know where the shovels and the ice melt are, and I know how to use them.
I'd prefer not to, though.
