All I know is that Spring is late. I've been sitting around here in my fluffy slippers, faded t-shirt, old man sweater, and sweat pants while nursing a cup of coffee and grumbling at the window for weeks now. How am I supposed to yell at kids to get off of my lawn if they're not outside? Granted, I yell at the imaginary ones, but that's not the point.
Some seasons are so rude.