OK. IT'S JANUARY.

Right? Or did I get sucked into some kind of writers-strike-induced vortex?

A few days ago, I was tossing salt on my driveway and shoveling the steps.

Today? 60 degrees.

There are mosquitoes trying to get in my back door.

This ain't right.


No fucking wonder Pittsburgh is always under construction.

This is not the Burgh I remember from my childhood, burrowing tunnels through snow in the front yard and thwarted spring breaks. Snow days. Sled-riding. Furnaces churning. Chestnuts roasting on an open freakin' fire.

There were people today walking around in short sleeves, for crying out loud.

Give me some slush, at least! Some more crusty salt on my tires! Anything that says winter and closely resembles a foot of new-fallen snow that prevents me from going to work!