Overrated

Spring is nice.  I like flowers and budding trees.

Green grass is a welcome change from white expanses of snow, followed by gray expanses of snow, followed by mud.

But really, spring is overrated.  Or maybe it's just that I live in an area of the country where spring doesn't live up to the hype.

We have now reached both meteorological and astronomical spring and, as I predicted over two months ago, it's really still winter.  We have had only one truly nice day in the last two weeks.  I've worn flip flops a few times, but I've also received more than a few odd looks.  I suppose I really shouldn't have worn flip flops with my winter coat, but at least I didn't also wear gloves and a scarf.

Even though my furnace has run today, it hasn't run enough to warm up the house, and I've had to use a space heater to take away the chill in the room where I've been working.  Tomorrow or the day after we're supposed to get snow.

I'm grouchy because I haven't yet adjusted to the hour of sleep I lost for Daylight Savings Time.  I also don't like it when the furnace doesn't run enough to allow my bath towel to dry completely before I take a shower again.  Drying off with a damp towel bugs me.

I am a crabby, sleep-deprived mess and I'd like to blame it all on spring (or the lack thereof) but I can't.

I need spring to come to my corner of the world and I really need spring to brighten my heart.