As I type this at 10:15 p.m. at night in front of Conan’s show, smug with the knowledge that I finally figured out this problem that has been plaguing me for a week, the little temperature widget on Enid’s dashboard says it is 37 degrees outside. It’s the second week of January and it’s 37 degrees in Minnesota.
As someone who refuses to drive while it snows out, you’d think this would thrill me beyond belief. As someone who lives the adage “the bigger they are the harder they fall” and moves like a snail over potentially icy sidewalks lest all 77 inches of me go crashing to the ground like they did that one time on Washington Avenue that I still can’t talk about without laughing and crying with embarrassment, you’d think I’d be kicking up my heels.
The weather is creeping me the fuck out. There’s no snow. None at all. This is infinitely creepier than last year when the snow was so high that it covered half of the downstairs windows.
The strangest thing about the weather is that it reminds me of a Douglas Coupland reading I went to back in 2003. It was a very warm night when he read, and he asked people if they liked the weather. If they were enjoying this balmy evening. Quite a few heads in the audience nodded their agreement about the wonderfulness of 50 degree weather in February.
“Enjoy it now,” he said.”BECAUSE IT MEANS THE EARTH IS DYING.”
So now whenever anyone says anything about the “awesome” weather happening (going on? weathering? what the hell does weather do?) right now inside my head I shout at them “IT MEANS THE EARTH IS DYING.”