The Season Of My Disgruntlement
This is the fifty-first winter of my young life, and I have to say it’s one of my least favorite of the bunch.
The season began in classic fashion, with warm rains instead of a white Christmas. Soon thereafter was a trip to the slopes with the kids to ski on sheets of ice interspersed with clumps of grass. Then came a plague of snow, the remnants of which were formed into mountains by shovel and plow and are currently holding thousands of cars across the city hostage in frozen crusts. Now, we have bitter cold, such that many fewer molecules are able to quiver back and forth a time when what New England needs more than anything are quivering molecules.
The only constant throughout all of this this has been illness, starting with run-of-the-mill colds, followed by far more unpleasant stomach bugs. As we approach winter vacation, during which we intend to seek temporary warmth in another part of the country, I spend my days devising ways of keeping the germs from being exchanged from human to human, going so far as to post “House Rules” on every floor on our humble abode:
- No more sticking your face under the faucet to rinse after teeth brushing
- To each his own (hand towel)
- No leaving the house for school or work without hazmat suits fully donned
Here is where some commenter (I have lots!) contends that what we’re seeing is “global cooling.”