It should not bother me, this weather madness, as much as it does. I literally am too old to be bothered by bizarre weather patterns. It's not so much that apparently someone opened the Cask of the Ancient Winters, it's that it seems that this only becomes more intense when I plan to do anything that involves travel.
This reminds me of why I stopped traveling in the 1980s; the careful planning that went into my road trip only to repeatedly run into unexpected weather drama.
Mother Nature, you grounded this black raven decades ago, and now you're trying to actively minimize her movement in her old age.
A long time ago, a snarky co worker looked at me and said: "I hope I die before I get old." Welp. I didn't. And I don't look a day of my age. But I feel it, thanks to the weather.
To be honest, my reply was: "I'm glad that at twice your age I've never had to support a jailbird boyfriend like you have." We ended up friends because we were at least honest with each other.
Mother Nature has given me false hope for spring over and over; and it's still snowing all over the Midwest. So, the snarky co worker is more honest than Mother Nature.
Figures.
