Paging Al Gore…

Yesterday it happened.  I knew it was coming.  That didn’t make it any easier.

Bitter cold wind suddenly flared up; flattening everything that could bend and bending a few things that couldn’t flatten.  The temperature dropped 40 degrees and the wind never quit.  The howling kept everyone up all night; and that was just me.  My psyche went through the usual progression:

“No, it can’t be!  Spring is coming.”

“Where is my **^%@^% global warming!”

“Give me a break, I finally got the ice dams removed.  Just keep it warm enough that they don’t form again.”

“Life sucks.  I’m going to bed and I’m staying there ’till June.”

“Sigh…I might as well go shovel the walk.”

This weekend I’ll scout the forest for windthrown trees.  Future firewood is easier to spot right after a storm.  Formerly impassible half melted snowdrifts are rock hard ice by now.  It’s nice that I probably won’t need snowshoes.  Any easy walk to locate next year’s potential heat.  All things in balance.  But first I need to sulk a while longer.

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About Adaptive Curmudgeon

I will neither confirm nor deny that I actually exist.
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