Okay, it's the end of February, and I am officially tired of winter. I've started humming Jimmy Buffett tunes and using tropical fruit-scented shower gel just to try to fool myself. It helps, as long as I don't try to leave the house. Then the act of scraping the ice and snow off my car brings winter back home with a vengeance.
On the other hand, this time of year always makes me wonder about the people around me. Aside from a few years in grad school, I've lived my whole life in Michigan. I'm used to snow. I understand the concept, and I know how to dress for it, how to deal with it, even how to drive in it. And yet every time there's a dusting of a quarter-inch, I swear everyone in Michigan has forgotten how to drive in it. Yeesh. You live here. Get a clue.
Likewise, I have to laugh at the weather reporters these days. You wake up to hear about a humongous blizzard that has blanketed the state and paralyzed life as we know it. Then I look out my window and see three inches. Good grief people. You live in Michigan. It's winter. Buy a pair of gloves and get over it.
While I may be seeing sandy beaches and fruity drinks in my mind, I recognize that I'm an adult. I've chosen to live here, for whatever reasons. (In my case, mostly family.) So even while I daydream about oiled hunks and tropical breezes, I'll pull on my pack boots and parka, and hope the kids DON'T have a snow day tomorrow. Maybe I'll go write a beach story. Hmmm--that should warm things up!