The air in the room gives me goosebumps. The sound from the corner vent signals the heater’s feeble attempt to blow more warmth into the room. I am reaching for my hooded sweater. Maybe the heater’s losing its steam.
But then again, the dial on the thermometer outside has barely got above freezing. The sound of wind whipping around the corner post bites the ears even indoor. I zip up my sweater a little higher to arrest the shivers going down my back.
Gauging the thick clouds lazily hanging over the horizon, I ponder. Maybe I should be grateful for what we have weather-wise. Could be worse. A lot worse.
Like the forecast for Buffalo New York: 2 feet or more snow coming this weekend. That is two feet of too much snow for me to shovel. No thank you. At least, here in the nation’s capital, it’s breezy, bitter but DRY.
On occasions, the sun peeks out behind the thick clouds, teasing the unsuspected with rays of golden sunshine, filling their imagination with the thoughts of elsewhere, and deceivingly raising their hope for warmer temperatures.
Not a chance.
How would you articulate the winter humdrum?