The Real March Madness
My husband says that waking up on the first day of the NCAA tournament is like Christmas morning for him. But I’m familiar with the real March madness, and basketball has nothing to do with it.
The real March madness is the feeling you get when you watch the thermometer on your car dashboard drop from fourteen to eleven to five degrees Fahrenheit. It’s the first day of spring getting bitch-slapped by winter, year after year.
It’s devouring gallons of coffee and carb-loading with baked goods because winter will never end and you’ll never need to wear a bathing suit again.
It’s straitjacketing your toddler into his parka and boots yet another time—a process that looks, to bystanders, like nothing so much as a greased-pig contest at the state fair. And you’re losing.
It’s questionable patches of dry, red skin that make you envy the shiny produce under the mist sprayers at the grocery store. It’s nosebleeds and hair static that makes you look like this:
In a word, it’s madness.
Okay, I am from Southern Cali, so feel free totally disregard me altogether and possibly send me hate emails, but I totally feel you! The spring has been dreary, rainy, and well… cold. I am longing for the warm sun, the beach, spring fare, flowers, and all that happy stuff.
I’ve had it with winter, too! And though the calendar may say it’s spring, we’ve got snow here today. Calgon, take me away!
Even though we don’t have as long a winter as you do I feel your pain! Yesterday the weather nerds had to mention dozens of times how last year the first day of spring was 78 degrees…as opposed to the 47 we were experiencing. And it probably won’t get any warmer until sometime in April.
I know I’ll regret bitching about this when it’s 100 this July.