It’s official. I’m a curmudgeon and it’s not my fault. The culprit for my current mood du jour is Mother Nature. She’s gone rogue — again. I don’t care if right now it feels vaguely seasonal this weather is messing with my mind.
Back in November I shared my heart-breaking struggle with the seasonal affective disorder “fangry” — fall angry ( a big thank you to all of you who reached out to me in my time of need) which was brought on by the non- autumn-like temperatures that were plaguing a month that should have been, at the very least, chilly, not flip-flops, shorts and the A.C. still blasting.
Now, on this first day of March I’ve relapsed and I’m experiencing a subset of Fangry — Wangry (Winter Angry) and it’s made me beyond grouchy and rude to any chipper soul who says, “Isn’t this weather just great?”
Short answer, no it’s not great. It reeks. It has me supremely ticked off. The fact that last week it hit 86 has me grief stricken. I know that 86 isn’t from any “official” meteorologist report. But I get my weather highs and lows from a much more reliable and precise tracker of temperatures, my car thermometer. In fact, Kansas City just had its warmest seven-day stretch of weather in February history (and that’s not from my car, but the National Weather Service).
For the love of sweaters and hot cocoa people get your “Hip, hip, hooray, I get to wear a tank top” enthusiasm under control. This is not a time for celebration. It’s a time of panic. People need to start thinking long term. If it’s this warm now what will summer be like?
Spoiler alert — it’s going to be like living on the surface of the sun. If you want a taste of summer 2017 may I suggest preheating your oven to 425 and then putting your head in.
And really a great big shame on all you “Yay, flip flops!” posers for having severe short-term memory issues. I’m the only one who recalls the spawn of Satan known as the oak mite?
Brace yourself because this early warming trend is going to have that minuscule beast breeding like the Duggars and reeking havoc on any exposed body surface for eternity. We might as well consider oak mites weaponized.
If that hasn’t scared you straight consider your allergies. The tree budding process has already begun. The pollen count has been higher than Trump’s disapproval ratings.
Don’t get me started on the lawn care issues an early spring is going to create. You’ll be forced to water your yard like a fiend and Lord have mercy on folks like me without a sprinkler system. (Again a big shout out to the Realtor who told me seven years ago that you don’t need an irrigation system in Kansas. May thousands of oak mites descend on your MLS listings).
Let me tee it up for you what my life is going to be like. I’ll be constantly in my yard moving sprinklers like I’m doing some sort of lawn origami while being roasted by solar rays as oak mites gorge themselves on my flesh. But I’ll be in flip-flops so I guess that will make it all OK. (Insert massive eye roll.)
Seriously, people snap out of it. A winter void of almost any snow and an excessive wearing of short sleeves is not something to get excited about. It’s a foreshadowing of doom and by that I mean a utility bill in the six figures. Soon we’ll all be afflicted with stage four Sumangry - summer angry. I think we need to start scheduling support groups right now. We’re going to need them.
Reach Sherry Kuehl at email@example.com, on Facebook at Snarky in the Suburbs, on Twitter at @snarkynsuburbs and snarkyinthesuburbs.com.