City Paper is not for tourists
Gather ’round, because we’re about to talk about the weather. The Post’s Petula Dvorak writes a typically meandering column about missing snow:
The skis are leaning against the wall, forlorn, cornered by the bikes.
The tulip bulbs are popping up in January, the Occupiers stayed outside way longer than anyone thought they could.
And the only thing sliding on Capitol Hill is America’s faith in Congress, not sleds.
This Warmageddon is getting old.
I know some of y’all like this. The Bocce leagues and kickball teams are back outside. Cafes are using their outdoor tables.
It’s supposed to be in the mid-60s on Tuesday. But what about my cute suede boots?
You could be wearing shorts and then a puffer jacket in the same week. Don’t even talk to me about getting dressed every morning. No way to do it without checking in on the Capital Weather Gang — we’ve had more highs and lows than Newt Gingrich’s poll numbers.
Fears about global warming aside: This is the best winter ever. Cold and snow are so inconvenient (though of course, there’s nothing as beautiful as snow while it’s falling), and there’s something just so darn pleasant about having a run of spring-like days in January. Chalk it up to my California upbringing, but I’m not mad about it at all. Are you?
Photo by karawynn via Flickr/Creative Commons Attribution Generic 2.0 License