Ah, the 2nd of February, the day when we are just demoralized enough after the dreariness of January to entrust our weather forecast for the coming months to a large, notoriously unreliable rodent who would much rather just be sleeping.
Word has it that Punxsutawney Phil did not see his shadow today, meaning there will not be six more weeks of winter.
This didn’t surprise me in the slightest, because what fucking winter?
Yeah, yeah, my fault for living in Vancouver, mild climate, blah blah blah, but still. I’m tired of leaving the rink after my Wednesday night skating sessions only to feel like I stepped off the ice and into the tropics.
I crave snow. I crave cold. I crave being able to spend more than two minutes outside without ending up drenched in sweat and having to take three layers off because silly me, I dressed for a season that apparently doesn’t exist anymore.
Is winter still a thing in Antarctica? I’m seriously considering picking up and moving there, assuming it hasn’t melted yet.