I blame the weatherman. I’m sorry. I do. But not for the weather. Oh, no. I live in Nebraska. So, I know winter is coming. How can I not? Every year we go through the same weird thing. Amazingly, at this time of year it gets cold. (Go figure.) We get ice, snow, sleet and everybody’s favorite, freezing rain. We’ve all heard the saying, “Only two things you can’t avoid: Death and taxes.” I submit the third: Winter. Unless you live in Florida or California. (Yawn) I’m talking to those of us that have four climates/seasons of distinguishable changes. We can’t blame the weatherman/woman. We know it gets cold. We deal with it. We live with it.
This morning I heard the weather report. Bitter cold. Bundle up. And it’s not expected to get any better. So, I didn’t do much of anything. Oh, sure, I rode my exercise bike and checked Facebook, but I didn’t get up. I didn’t get going. I kept trying to decide, should I go for a jog, or stay inside. I have plenty to do. We are having Thanksgiving at my house. I could clean, but yet I know that isn’t the best work out.
Finally, I decided I better get a move on. It is my trash day. I did have a couple of bags of garbage that needed to go to the curb. I dressed as if marching off to war. The heavy socks and several Under Armor clothing pieces. Guess what? It wasn’t that bad. I wasn’t freezing. So, a little more dithering and extra potty stops and I was off.
I’m not fast. In fact, in warmer weather, there’s a little old lady who could run me into the ground with her fast-walk-sashay-swing-your-butt-and-haul-her-husband-behind-her. And he always has this look on his face that says, “Good God, I want a beer.”
But I was out there (they weren’t) and I survived and my little piggy toes didn’t go wee wee wee all the way home. My lungs didn’t spew up blood from the ‘bitter cold.’ I didn’t cry. It wasn’t painful. In fact, it was kind of enjoyable. (I do say kind of, because I’m not a sadist.)
I think the Weatherman/woman shouldn’t be so warm and cuddly. They shouldn’t say, “Oh, bundle up.” They are so gentle. After all, they are trying to ease us out into that biting cold snap. In fact, we all but get a little kiss on our foreheads. Today, I heard them say 49 of 50 states have below freezing temperatures. More cajoling and huggable forecasts. As, if it’s okay to stay home and nap. Hey, 49 of us are in misery, so let’s all commiserate and take the day off and drink hot toddies.
He or she should say, “Get up off your lazy butts and get out there and conquer the world! So what, it’s cold out! Whiners, wimps and namby pamby little babies!”
We need drill sergeants for our weather forecasters. On cold days we don’t need someone to offer us a cup of hot chocolate just for being “you.” We don’t need flight attendants. “Bye, bye, take care now. Put on a warm jacket. Wrap a scarf around your little throats. You don’t want a little tickle in your trachea.”
We could do without the pep talk. We need, I need, “Up and at ‘em! Let’s move it!”
Oh, sure, you say. That weatherman/woman would be fired in a red-hot minute. People would call in by the thousands. “I am not a lazy rear end. I’m motivationally challenged.”
Fourteen degrees. It really wasn’t THAT bad. I’d just as soon not think about it. I hate it as much as anyone, but we are here. Winter. Conquer the weather. Let’s move it.
Now, when it’s below freezing I may want some cajoling and a warm fuzzy, but I wasted so much time this morning because I kept listening to “the bad forecast.”
And by the way, have you wondered why the weatherman/weatherwoman always throw up their hands at their predictions and say, “Hey, I just report it,” but they never say that when the temperature is perfect and the sky is a beautiful blue.
I’m sure they deal with a lot of people who call or write them and complain about the weather. Let’s all be responsible and not blame them for the temperature, but for the sad sack way they deliver it to all of us big scaredy cats.