87% of the United States is below freezing. It’s so cold, politicians are keeping their hands in their own pockets this morning. Whether you are or you’re not a global warming theorist, you can’t deny it’s a harder sell on days like this.
To my friends in the north, I offer this bit of good news, Spring is only 13 weeks away. Unless you are in either Minnesota or Vermont, then you can add another six weeks and two cords of wood to that total.
When I went to college in my 1971 Ford, it was dependable for only one thing. For some inexplicable reason, when the temperature dropped below freezing, an obscure wire would ground under the hood. Unless I would unplug the horn, the blasted horn (no pun intended) would blow continuously.
Since I needed the horn to drive in Boston traffic, I would have to follow the weather forecast diligently. My errant system was foolproof until one night the weatherman was off by 3 degrees. A dorm lynch mob greeted me at 1 am with the urgent message that if I didn’t stop the noise, they would with clubs. I ran straight for my car in my tighty whiteys. For the remaining semester, I left the horn unplugged, I couldn’t trust the New England weather.
I recall the story of an angry television viewer that wrote a stinging letter to the station weatherman. In his letter he wrote with extreme sarcasm, “I want to thank you for the exercise program you created for me, I spent four hours shoveling six inches of your partly cloudy out of my driveway today.”
As difficult as my job is, imagine being the guy who has to forecast the perfect weather for weddings, picnics, and church gatherings. No thank you, I’ll just stick to my mild complaining. I’m familiar with the country song entitled, “It’s five o’clock somewhere”, but how about another one entitled, “It’s 80 degrees somewhere?”
I’d stay and write more but I’m looking for an ice pick. I have to chop the dog loose from the fire hydrant, it might take a awhile. Baby, it’s cold outside.