So, today’s entry is purely for cathartic purposes (for me, not you—the reader), because there’s something I need to say.
WHY? Weathermen? WHY did you tell me all weekend it was going to snow? I love you, and yeah, there’s no possible way that anyone can predict the weather, because let’s face it guys, the last two years you’ve told me that we were going to have record-breaking, earth-shattering hurricanes, and not ONE showed up on land. Not ONE! In Two Years. And no, I’m not mad about that, because quite frankly, if you wanna be wrong about something, be wrong about hurricanes and tornados and torrential downpours. But please, please, please, please . . . don’t tell me there’s going to be snow, and then (at the last minute) recant on it. It’s So Not Nice.
So here’s what happened. I’m in Eastern North Carolina, where we haven’t gotten more than an inch of snow in like, five years. We see flurries, maybe once—twice in a good year. But not this weekend. This weekend was supposed to be the winter storm to end all storms. There was supposed to be 2-4 inches of snow on the ground. This crazy rain front was supposed crash into this massive cold front and . . . BAM! Winter Wonderland.
I mean, people were Freaking Out. There was no milk or bread . . . (I LOVE it when Southerners panic! But I have to wonder why they weren’t buying chocolate. That’s what I’d stock up on). Anyway, people went home early; they got off the roads. The kids were bundled up and waiting….
And this is what happened around dinnertime:
Mr. Weatherman: “Oh, well, it looks like that cold front isn’t coming in as fast as we first thought.”
Mr. Weatherman (thirty minutes later): “Oh, well, it looks like that cold front is coming in, but the rain front is starting to dissipate.”
Me: “No! No! No!”
Mr. Weatherman (an hour later): “Oh, well, it looks like the cold front is here, and the rain is still around, but expect little to no accumulation.”
Me: “NO! NO! NO! NO! NO!”
So yeah, I really like snow. I mean, I love the spring and summer and early fall. For me, anything below 75 degrees is chilly. (I know . . . you Northerners who are reading my blog are like: “What a wussy.” Yeah, that’s me. When the temp drops below 70 I’m a freakin’ Chihuahua—pathetic and shivering and whiny.) I’m sorry, it’s just that the two best things about winter are Christmas and snow, and so far in the snow department I’ve got nil. If it HAS to be cold for the next few months, I’d like to see some of the white stuff. Makes life a bit more tolerable. And no, Northerners, don’t email me trying to be all funny and say: “I’ll send you some of mine. We just got 12 inches last night! You can have it!” Because we both know that’s just, so impractical, and mean on so many different levels.
I did see flurries last night around ten or so, but when I woke up this morning, there was nothing on the ground. Wow, flurries. A massive snowstorm turned into Flurries. Oh, but my back deck had ice on it. OOOO! ICE! Big Deal.
So, that’s my rant.
Me to Weatherman: “Next time, don’t predict any snow; we’ll get a freakin’ blizzard. Don’t tell me and I’ll just wake up surprised one morning. Then I can go outside and make snowmen. And really, part of me just has to feel sorry for you, because people were so flaming you in your weather blog last night. Oh, and I’m sorry that person wrote ‘great forecast’ in it, because we both know he was being sarcastic. But it wasn’t me; I didn’t post it. I Didn’t! I Swear!”
So, no snow for me on this cold, Sunday afternoon. Truthfully, I don’t know which is worse: the lack of snow, or the fact that I was on my computer all Saturday afternoon/evening comparing weather data from three different stations. I’m *such* a nerd.
It’s still January, though. There’s hope, and there’s time. I’m holding out for my Wonderland. Holding . . . Holding . . .