Every year it seems to get worse. Once the holidays are over, I have to steel myself to maintain mental equilibrium through the remaining weeks of winter. The older I get, the harder it becomes and the less tolerant I am of the Pollyannas among us.
Pollyanna says, "The freshly fallen snow is so beautiful."
Yeah, but after two hours of shoveling, the white stuff kinda loses its glamor. Then, it turns from white to crusty, malevolent gray like the young beauty in a horror flick morphing into an old hag.
"Don't you just love cozy nights by the fire?"
Sure, except it plays havoc with the thermostat. Frankly, I prefer summer campfires where it doesn't matter if marshmallows fall into the flames because the fire is where it should be--OUTSIDE the house.
"Hot chocolate?" Polly asks.
Yes, please. And bring on the cakes and cookies, too. Lots of carbs to keep us warm. Lots of carbs to build another layer of fat. I need that.
Then there's my favorite Pollyanna line of all time. The thermometer reads 5 degrees above zero (that's 50 below zero with a Lake breeze), there's a three-inch layer of ice on all roads, sidewalks, and cars, I write checks for my gas bill using scientific notation, and someone has the audacity to say, "At least it's sunny outside."
Anyone got an ice pick?