It’s that winter. The one you checked out how much a 2 bedroom in San Diego was going for. The one you realized your dog’s leash would make a great noose. The winter of your discontent.
I’ve been through worse weather for sure. Back at R.I.T. if the temperature climbed above 40 degrees Fahrenheit it was cause for a beach party. Literally. Some of you reading this have probably never seen snow, much less sub-zero weather. Understand, above 40 was a miracle in February, like getting 12 hours of light in Berlin (in February).
Anyway, it is the kind of winter that is upon us as I write this that pins you down and dares you to leave your apartment. Your apartment might be a prison cell in late May, but right now it is warm and fuzzy and not what mother nature is proposing you go out into.
Today we were given a reprieve. The sun showed up unexpectedly warm and loving.
Hats were shoved in coat pockets, faces turned upward to catch some vitamin D, feet dancing around melting patches of ice on the sidewalk. It’s days like this when I remember why I continue to live in New York City. 2 out of 4 seasons can be rather ugly, but the other 2 seasons are served up on a silver platter.
