How did this happen? That it is practically April, and snow is falling from the sky. I recall signing up for winter--I said yes, I am aware that winter happens, and that it will happen to me, and around me and near me, when I move to a state that has got winter. I am not exempt from winter, and I will live in the winter, and hopefully I will not die in the winter, and will in fact, live to see spring, for which I also signed up.

As far as I can recall, the first day of spring was March 20. And I know, March 20 is kind of early, still in the year. March is a cold month, a winter-sounding month, a month with weather still in it--the kind of weather that has, in fact, worn out its welcome. But by the end of March, when it should be slinking off, ashamed that it has been such a crappy guest, it should be trying very hard to make amends, to play nice, to say hey, I know I kind of sucked, but I hope you can forgive me with this, a run of warm and sunny days that make the sap run and your heart pound and your clothes come off, because it is the season of growing! And doing it.

And yet, and yet! It is practically April, and March is being a little bitch. March is hanging on with fangs and claws and a seriously bad attitude that makes me just want to slap its fool head off and beat it to death with a pair of flip-flops and a bottle of sunblock and my righteous fury which, coincidentally, is shaped like my tightly clenched fists of doom. Oh no, I mourned. The winter's almost over and it's soooooo sad, I whined. I take it back! I'm sorry!

On Easter Sunday, I wore a skirt, and a short-sleeved blouse and had bare legs and open-toed shoes and put on a sweater later in the afternoon, after I was replete with lamb and cheesecake and all my energy had been diverted toward digestion rather than body heat. This past Friday it started to sleet, and then the sleet turned into snow and I said, "Oh god, it's going to stick." "It's not going to stick," I was reassured. "This is just a last hurrah, and it will be fine and not stick. We'll have a sunny weekend."

None of us are meteorologists; we did not have a sunny weekend. In fact, it snowed on Saturday, all day, and every time I let the dogs out my ankles froze and my toes shattered and then all my blood iced over and my heart exploded and I died. This is the reason we stayed inside all Saturday except for a latte run, during which I took a moment to appreciate the way the snow totally did catch on my eyelashes, except it was cold and I am so over the cold, did I mention that? Over. The cold. Good bye, please. Cream of Wheat and the comforter kept us warm. But it'll be sunny tomorrow! It wasn't sunny. We stayed inside all day and watched movies and I worked and played EverQuest and we cooked and it was not warm! It still snowed! All day! This is breaking some kind of international treaty of some kind.

It's 11:00 at night on Sunday, as I type this, and it is still snowing. The heater is pointed right at me and the dogs are piled up around it because they are not stupid and they don't approve, either. I refuse to look on the bright side, even if I did have a spectacular weekend in a quiet sort of way. It is practically April, and it's not allowed to snow in April, and that's just all I have to say about it. Unless it snows in April. And then I will have so much more to say.