Will it or won’t it…thaw that is?

An apparently unanswerable question out here in the northeast. No matter what the weather forecasters predict, the mercury stubbornly refuses to rise. Maybe today, we all whisper. Maybe tomorrow. Maybe…never?

My winter coat, just months ago a prized and delightful new purchase, is now a despised rag I grudgingly strap myself into before heading into yet another icy, bitter wind. My boots, once saviors in the NYC/Hoth wasteland, are now the footwear that led me to a treacherous fall, a suspicious character to be donned with a whiff of resentment and mistrust.

And my gloves. Oh, my gloves. Discovered in a charming shop in Norway and envisioned as a snuggly winter reminder of a lovely vacation…well, after clutching many a subway pole and railing to climb from the ice-encrusted depths of the city’s wretched Ton-Ton-esque belly…no amount of washing can take those stains away. I now feel queasy each time I slide them on my pale, shriveled fingers.

Enough is enough. Maybe it will warm up today. Maybe it won’t. But I don’t care. I’m outta here.

Tomorrow it’s just me, my Pop Pop, and a suitcase full of bikinis and sunscreen. I’m southbound and may never come back.

If you need me, you can find me here:

Laters, winter!