It is with a heavy and cold heart that I must break off our weather advisory relationship. It's always been one-sided and maybe that was the fault from the beginning that, as of yesterday, turned into a giant chasm that can no longer be overlooked or simply stepped around.
You told me it would be 52 so I wore a short-sleeved polo shirt and a flimsy jacket to work.* I dressed our innocent child in a tee-shirt as well.
I sort of thought my walk to work was brisk and a co-worker immediately asked "Um, why are you wearing a jacket?!" when I came in to work. I scoffed back at her "UMM, cause it's going to be 52 today???" Duh.
She looked like a sad puppy and was forced to tell me that no, actually, it would be no where near 52 and that, in fact, we were due to get a snowstorm that afternoon.
Our high temperature was 31.
It snowed 4 inches between 1:00 and 4:00 p.m.
I traipsed 2 blocks to my car in a jacket and short sleeves with ankles soaking wet from a lack of boots. I cleaned off my car in a pair of ratty gloves from the floor of my car with chattering teeth and a cold nose for a solid 10 minutes before I could see well enough to drive home. And drive home I did - a long 45 minutes that normally only takes 20 - hoping to avoid any accidents or stalls because I was not properly dressed to be outside any amount of time.
Finally, I get home. Home to a closet full of coats, hats, gloves and scarves. And I praised dear lord baby jeebus that I was home in one piece and not frozen on a street in downtown Lincoln. And then I gave you dagger eyes until you apologized.
And then I moved on; I loaded a weather app on my phone.
I don't need your services any longer.
You can pull your shenanigans on the next girl, cause like my friend Carrie Underwear says, the next time that you lieabouttheweather you know it won't be on me.
I wish you the best in life,
Anna M. Seckman
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*In Nebraska, when it gets over 40 in February it's shorts and sandals time baby.