Keep Yer Shadow To Yerself

Dear Mr. Punxsutawney Phil,

Please consider sleeping in tomorrow morning. You've been on the job for 120 years—I'm sure you have accrued considerable vacation time by now, since you have had perfect attendance all these years. I'm sure your Significant Otter would appreciate a little quality time with you for a change.

Mr. Phil, it's cold as heck around these parts. Now I'm not complaining, mind you, because up until the past couple of weeks we've been pretty blessed with a mild winter. Remember that Blizzard back in '78? That was a doozy. My Dad sawed up a couple of the kitchen chairs for kindling during that storm (thank God we had a working, clean fireplace and that Dad was the Be Prepared kind of guy) and Mom stuck her good Revere pans over that fire to cook up some grub. (No. We didn't have groundhog, in case you were wondering. Soup, I think it was. And mashed potatoes. Maybe a hamburger or two.)

But now we're preparing for an Arctic Blast as our beloved Blizzard Bill Spencer calls it—and that can't be good. That means 20 below wind chills. Do you know what it's like for poor college students to walk across campus when it is that cold? You don't know from cold! Cars won't start, houses don't heat, class attendance drops to 10%... I tell ya, Phil (may I call you Phil?), it's a sad state of affairs. And every year, the prediction has been six more weeks of winter. It's painful.

So take the day off tomorrow. Sleep in. Let winter blast itself to the moon, Alice, and let us enjoy an early relief of spring for a change. Spare us from the white stuff and gloom; take pity on us poor beleaguered sufferers of SAD. Let the sun shine in—just not tomorrow morning.

If the sun does happen to remember we exist, then do us all a favor: keep your shadow to yourself.

Sincerely,
Frozen Midwesterner

posted by Jeanne @ 12:22 AM