I've had it. I'm done. I'm through with winter. And, since it doesn't look like winter is through with us--you can find me in one place, and one place only, for the forseeable future.
On my couch.
With a big blanket, the one my grandma knitted for me when I was in junior high, swaddled around me as if I were a newborn baby.
You see, I really really like my couch. It's a grey suede sectional, and my 5'9'' frame fits it like a puzzle piece where the two sides of the couch intersect into an "L." Its cushions embrace me like a giant hug as I curl up with a good book or a glass of Two-Buck Chuck, eat my Ben & Jerry's Greek peanut butter/banana frozen yogurt, or watch a rerun of The Big Bang Theory.
Sure, my couch and I have had some good times together in the past, but we hadn't made it exclusive until now. So I'm ready to commit, to take our relationship to the next level.
Here's the plan: From now until spring--and I don't mean the "meteorological spring," which apparently started this week, no I mean until I see the sunshine icon with the number "70" or higher next to it on my iPhone weather forecast app--I choose you, couch.
Oh, and winter, I don't know how to put it to you gently, so I'll just be blunt: It's been a long and cold run, and I'm breaking up with you.
You see I came to this decision, while slipping on the ice yesterday morning, literally mid-fall.
It was a typical winter morning commuting to work, much like the other bazillion days of winter so far this season. But then, I lost my balance, after exiting the bus, climbing over a mound of dirty snow, the same type of pile of snow I and every other Chicagoan (maybe we're the real winter Olympic champions) have been jumping over this whole, long, slippery, sludgy, icy, bone-chilling, terrible, horrible, no good, very bad winter.
Okay, I didn't quite "eat it' as they say. I was able to regain my balance, and composure, before actually landing face first on the sidewalk, but people saw me lose my balance, and it felt like it had the makings for a big ole pratfall, the kind that people tell their colleagues about at the proverbial water cooler.
If I'd fallen, people would have laughed, I'd have cried, and it would have been ugly.
Well, actually, that probably isn't how it would have gone down. After all, Chicagoans are nice people with nice, Midwestern values and manners. If I had eaten it, good Samaritans probably would have helped me up. Mayor Emanuel himself would have reached his hand out to grab mine and guided me into an ambulance, where a handsome Chicago Fire paramedic would have restored me to health.
But, just the same, I've decided to take a preemptive strike before I really hurt myself.
So before there's another polar vortex, blizzard, or ice storm to contend with, it's time for me to take control in the relationship and say goodbye winter and hello couch.
See the rest of you in July!