Another snow storm threatens to disrupt travel, interfere with my Brandi Carlile concert going experience, and drive shoppers into a frenzy to grab a year’s supply of milk, eggs, and bread. Silly Americans. It seems terribly unfair that the snow has decided to arrive just in time for me to miss out on the two days in the week I look forward to the most. Who knows if we’ll even get any of the white stuff in the first place. I mean this as no insult to weather forecasters everywhere, but how cool to have a job where you only have to be accurate some of the time. That storm that hit us this past week? No one had even predicted it! Where do I sign up for this kind of work?
I hate February. Depressing. Brutal. Heartless. I’m also extremely tired of all the Valentine’s Day hoopla already and there’s more than a week to go. I didn’t like it when I was in a relationship (how can you really enjoy a dinner when restaurants welcome you with cheesy heart-shaped decorations and waiters are clearly trying to turn tables?) and now that Jackson is no longer in the picture, I find it’s really getting to me. When did I become such a Scrooge?