We've hit that peculiar time of year again, where we know, intellectually, that winter is supposedto be on its way out, but in fact it snowed again last night and your next-door neighbor got stuck on the plow-created snowdrift at the bottom of his driveway this morning. I was hopeful I had hauled the shovel down to the curb for the last time this year, but evidently not. Curses.
You would think that, this being by twenty-fourth Minnesota winter, I'd know by now that the damned groundhog is a hack, and even meteorological spring means basically nothing around here. I don't think I'd mind so much if we were still in the Pretty Winter phase. But by now, the snow has half-melted and refrozen so many times that all the snowbanks are dingy and disgusting and everyone's cars are the same shade of brown-gray. And there's nothing to look forward to except record flooding and (probably) more snow mold than anyone's ever seen before.
Whine, whine, complain, complain. Hey, it's Monday; what do you want from me?