Well, the days are now getting longer, so at least there'll be more daylight. It'll take about two months for the actual heat to catch up.
It's a pain.
People in South Dakota, Minnesota, Wisconsin, Michigan, and upstate New York are enured to this sort of weather; it happens to them every year, and sometimes more so.
We here in Nebraska aren't; all we know is that the weather's never going to be the same every winter.
Back in the good old days when George Bush was still president, and all was right with the world, for
three winters in a row, the "average" temperature for Nebraska was higher than the then-"average" temperature for Los Angeles.
Really. I kid you not.
The newspapers keep on pointing out that December 2013 was the coldest December in Nebraska since December 1983.
I was around, but living in Lincoln in December 1983; I'm trying, but failing, to remember anything special about that winter.
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And it's definitely put a damper on the mood, right when I have to present the biggest award of the year.
I spent yesterday reading Amber and the CalPig primitive and Skippy--going back about three, four, years--and they made me so convulsed with disgust and nausea that I had to sit down and read a biography of Grace Goodhue Coolidge to feel okay again. These peop--er, primitives, are, to put it mildly, fetid degenerate creeps.
I'm not going to bother reading walrus-face today, lest I fall into another funk. About mid-afternoon (real life is interfering), I'll just write it off the top of my head, and we'll see how it flies.
