Dear Mother Nature:
To pull this out of your hat days after I squealed in glee at the sight of the first crocus of the season, posted my nice little poem about spring, started clearing the dead leaves off the budding plants in the garden, and ran around the park in short sleeves because it was 60- and 70-degrees? Is complete and utter crap.
Yesterday I had to pile on boots and a parka and gloves just to slog out to the mailbox.
It was the poem, wasn’t it? You read that and thought, “I’ll show that little bitch who’s boss,” and then you blanketed the entire Northeast with frost and snow and sleet. It’s bad enough you had to ruin Valentine’s Day with a blizzard, now St. Patty’s Day too? And meanwhile, it was in the 60s and snowless at Christmas. What type of two-bit operation are you running here, anyway? Is nothing sacred to you anymore? Or do you just really like screwing with everyone?
So OK, I get it. You’ve got the power and I’m just a poor, mere mortal at your mercy. But really, the crocuses were innocent in all this. Could you leave them out of it next time? Sheesh. You Big Meanie. ☹