This is so not fun.

This morning, when I checked my outdoor digital thermometer, the sight buoyed my spirits. I honestly thought it said 68°F. After all, yesterday the temperature hit 50. Why shouldn’t it get even warmer today? Somehow, first thing in the morning, that made sense. In my morning stupor, I had missed the decimal point, otherwise clearly visible between the tenths digit and the ones digit.

I am so not a morning person.

Last week, I swear I heard Phil promise us an early Spring. I’m convinced he did so to make up for the way the Steelers played on Sunday. But, O Phil, if Spring is to arrive early this year, why does the sun yet rise so late in the morning? Why does the chill yet inflict my toes with frostbite? How come I still have to scrape an inch of frost off the car every damn morning?

I am so not a morning person.

I’m snowed in this Groundhog Day, as is apparently most of the nation. Sitting here, with the family, watching Groundhog Day, a most ironic movie for this particular Groundhog Day blizzard.

Fortunately, this morning, Punxsutawney Phil did not see his shadow, and we will have an early spring. Yay! Because I am now officially tired of winter.