Hibernating

Winter. Is. Here.

I am sure I've mentioned this before, but I used to think winter was my favorite season. Why!?!? you ask, incredulous. I don't know. I must have been out of my mind.

Part of it, I can only imagine, is that winter in the city isn't too terrible most of the time. The coldest days, which are rare, tend to settle around 20 degrees, pretty bad but not unbearable. Snow was also reserved for delightfully special occasions. If we did get some, 98% of the time it didn't stick. It just floated like confetti through the city streets, making everything seem slightly magical, and then melted away in the heat of our drain pipes. I thought I loved snow.

But the very best of all is that winter in the city ends. It is reserved for a three month period between the middle of December and the middle of March, and then, like clockwork, on March 15 you wake up and suddenly you can smell spring coming. In the air. I can't make this up. It smells wet.

Basically what I'm saying is, I didn't really know Winter, with a capital W, until I got to Maine. And then it was ruined for me forever.

First there is the cold. The endless cold. Temperatures in the single digits are pretty typical. There was one winter during which we basically couldn't go outside for the entire month of January. Friends turned against friends. Enemies punched enemies in the face. We ate each other alive.

Then there is the snow.  The endless snow. One year the mountainous snow piles grew to nine feet high and refused to melt. There were entire stairs wells on campus that I completely forgot existed.  Pathways at the school became icy death traps. Driving was a nightmare: first you dig your car out and try not to get hypothermia, then you clean your car off and your hands die from hypothermia, then by the time you actually get in the car to go somewhere you're starting to wonder if anything you could possibly need is worth risking your life on the icy road. Nine time out of ten the answer is...  Probably not. Too bad you already sacrificed your hands.

But the absolute worst thing about winter in Maine is that spring never comes. I would wake up on March 15 feeling all hopeful and expectant only to find that... It was definitely still winter. The same held true all the way into April. My soul became more beaten with each passing day. There were times that I legitimately feared it would be WINTER. FOREVER. APOCALYPSE NOW.

By the end of my first Maine March, winter had become my interminable foe and spring my long awaited savior. Summer was my new favorite season. Even now, two years later, I will take the hottest day over the coldest day ANY day. I'd rather swelter than freeze. In fact, I kind of love sweltering.

Basically my point in writing all this is to let you know that the city is uncharacteristically cold today, hovering around 15 degrees.  As a result I have avoided the outdoors like the plague. In fact, I think I will now retire to my bed which is where I will be hiding until March 15. And YOU BETTER NOT LET ME DOWN THIS TIME, Spring. You better show up right on time.

Or else.

Or else I'll move to Orlando. AND DON'T YOU TEST ME.