"Spring, go home. You're drunk."
This is the prevailing thought in most Philadelphian's heads lately. Indeed, in the heads of pretty much anyone in the Midwest/Mid-Atlantic/New England areas of the U.S.
Because WHERE IS SPRING?
The groundhog is a liar. The equinox was a false finish line. The crocuses are laughing at us.
I'm so ready for Spring, it hurts. Go away, winter wind. Go away snowy slush falling from the skies. I just want to wear peep-toed heels and sandals. For now, though, I'd settle for being able to walk out of my apartment without a parka, hat, and gloves.
Come, thou long-expected springtime, come to give new life to earth!
