It’s official. I’ve had it with winter. Poke me with a fork. I’m done.
This frostbite-inducing, mind-numbing, un-South like mix of cold rain, ice and near continuous sub-30 temperatures have pushed me over the edge into the free-fall of a total weather funk.
Along with way, it hijacked my trash walks with it. I’ve continued to trek but faster than usual just to get through the frigid torture and be done with it. The piles of junk normally spilled on the driveway, photographed and sorted for the recycler continued to sit in a heap behind the garage.
But no more.
This morning, and for the first time ever, I audibly said “To hell with this.” I picked up the snow-covered, unsorted bags representing several days of litter patrols and dumped them into the recycle bins. We’ll let the Charlotte/Mecklenburg trash authorities decide what goes where.
It kills me to do so, but if I were in a court of law, I would claim some sort of weather-induced duress, aka MWWS (Mid Winter Weather Syndrome). The judge would no doubt see through this ruse/smoke screen and would sentence me to walk more laps around my neighborhood.
But I’d ask for some type of stay to delay the punishment. Like, say, until May 15. My extremities should be warmed up by then.