I’ve always said I love the seasons. And it is true. Even when we have 73 feet of snow in a winter. I still love the seasons. I don’t even really mind the clean up. It’s a drag sometimes. Sometimes my eyebrows get all iced up and the blow back from the snowblower is stinging and blinding. My back aches from the shoveling. Then the snowblower breaks down and I have to shovel about a half million cubic yards of ice and snow so we can walk the kids down the driveway to the bus stop (because there’s NO way there spending one more day at home, the little maniacs!) And the power goes out and we start pricing honda generators, saying “next year, maybe if we get a decent tax refund or something.”

Still, in spite of all the challenges, I still love the seasons. I really really do. Except for one thing. All the people who are bitching and moaning about how cold it is are going to be bitching and moaning about the heat in a couple of months. “It’s ridiculous!” they will exclaim. “This humidity is total bullshit!” they will shout. And I’ll be wishing I could drown out the whining with my snowblower…