Why I Friggin Hate Winter

Some people love winter. They welcome the crisp, cool air. They find breathtaking beauty in the moon on the crest of the new fallen snow. They gladly trade open toed shoes for cute boots to conceal their neglected toenails that start to resemble Bugles chips by the time Christmas Eve rolls around.

I’m not one of those friggin’ people.

Here’s why: 

Friggin' Coats
Weighing down my body with a flocks worth of fleece, itchy gloves that scrape my dry, cracked and bleeding hands and twenty pound boots just so I can semi-comfortably walk to the mailbox isn’t my idea of a good time. After I  put on the Hazmat suit and tumble down the driveway, Jack Frost still manages to nip something, too. I’m also convinced that putting all that garb on my kids somehow sends a signal to their bladder to empty itself immediately.

 

Friggin’ Sickness
Web MD insists that cold weather doesn’t cause sickness. Supposedly the reason illness peaks in the winter months is because people are forced inside to cuddle and keep from going glacial (or something scientific like that), but I’m not convinced. Summer socializing in crowded places has never resulted in green slime dripping from nostrils for 6-8 weeks and enough money spent on co-pays to buy an AKC registered puppy. Hey, Pier One vase on the end table, scoot over and make room for the humidifier, Kleenex wads and the Sudafed that I had to give fingerprints and a blood sample to buy.

 

Friggin' Cabin Fever
My kids stand at the back door and gaze lovingly and longingly at the swing set covered in icicles. I can’t let them go outside because their post nasal drip and cough just cleared up and we’d have to take out a second mortgage to pay for another doctor’s visit. Dinner will also be ready in three hours, so I don’t have time to dress them in the proper apparel. So they just stand there. Like the desperate souls who stand in line at the nightclub for hours but the bouncer refuses to let them in.

 

Friggin’ Darkness
As I sit on the couch after supper and watch “The Wheel”, I doze off before the Prize Puzzle has been solved. Why am I so lethargic at 6:30 PM? Because it’s been dark for two hours and my body is so confused it doesn’t know whether to scratch its watch or wind its butt. Is it late? Early? Lunch? Supper? Earth? Mars? What is friggin’ going on here? *Insert “Twilight Zone” theme.

 

Friggin’ School Cancelations
Here in the south, school is canceled if we get half a centimeter of dust. There’s more white on my powdered donut, and yet sheer panic has set in, bread is flying off shelves and the superintendent leaves a voicemail talking about “hazardous conditions” or some such nonsense and how school is going to be shut down for a week. Yes, a week. This means all the children are home. Together. Cooped inside. Fighting over the remote.  And the chips. And my attention. And my sanity. And forcing me to make You Tube videos like this.

I’m ready for my friggin’ flip flops.

Go home, winter. You’re drunk.