something is amiss, something is not right . . .

right now, at 9:30 p.m. on the night of january 13, it is 48º F on my front porch. for the past three days i've been comfortable outdoors without a coat. the ground is not only thawed but muddy; if i wanted to, i could head out into the yard this very second and plant a bed of tulip bulbs while wearing nothing but jeans and a thermal shirt. the current five-day forecast for my neighborhood predicts a high of 56º on wednesday. fifty-six degrees, in mid-january, in massachusetts. it vexes me. i am terribly vexed.

is boston suddenly closer to the coast than it once was? it should be fifteen degrees, there should be dirty, crusty snowdrifts all up and down the street, my face should hurt by the time i make it to the bus stop. what in the world is going on here? everyone i know is thrilled about it, they think it's the best winter ever, and i have to admit that i don't hate much more than the traditional new england winter, but my hatred of it has never prevented me from accepting the innate rightness of it. today's temperate, humid breeze didn't feel pleasant to me; it felt wrong.

does it feel like january where you are? i'm anxious and fidgety, and i won't feel completely better until the gallon of water i keep forgetting to take out of my car freezes, but if it's only happening here i might relax a little. maybe. just a little.