Half Empty

I've never wanted to be that guy. The one who can rain on every parade, who can find the cloud that comes with every silver lining, who always sees the glass as half empty. And I'm sure that anyone who knows me well will attest that, ordinarily, I am not. "He has a sunny disposition," they'll say. "He's so pleasant to be around. A real joy. Look up 'good natured' in the dictionary, and you'll see his picture." It's true. Ask my mother. She'll tell you.

But even I have my limits. Lately, I've had quite enough. My patience has run out. I'm up to "here" (please imagine me waving my hand somewhere above my eyeballs). Consider the following image (captured from weather.com a few minutes ago) and I'm sure my problem will be obvious:

That's right. Another week of 65+ degree temperatures in Denver. I think they forgot about winter here because it seems that's all we've been having here for the last two months. And I, for one, am sick and tired of it.

For one thing, there's the skiing--or lack of skiing. Yes, there is still snow in the mountains.* But nothing that makes a ski snob like me want to drive an hour. So, not knowing what else to do with myself on a Monday, I've been forced to ride my bike and to endure sights like this:

Can you see why I've reached my limit?

And that's just the beginning. Because do you know how hard it is to dress for a bike ride on a sunny 65 degree day? Shorts or knickers (yes, I sometimes where "knickers")? Short sleeves or light jacket? Or would short sleeves and a vest be best? And do I need sunscreen? (Don't even get me started on sunscreen. I mean, sunscreen? In March? Seriously?!)

Of course, those things are merely scratching the surface. The real problem is much more fundamental. The real problem is that that I feel compelled to ride my bike in the first place. In my experience, bikes are not meant to be ridden from, say early October to early March. That's the time for packing on a few winter pounds, maybe catching up on some reading. And that's the way I prefer it.

Take today, for example. What I really wanted to do with my Sunday afternoon was sit around in my comfy chair and read my book until I fell asleep. Maybe eat a plate of nachos and an Oreo or seven. But could I do that? Noooooo. That's the kind of thing one does when its twenty-five degrees, overcast, and drizzling (like it probably was in Michigan, or Western New York today). You can't do that when it's 65 degrees in March. They have a word for that: "Sin." So I had to skip my nap. I had to go for a ride.

And what's worse--I'll probably have to tomorrow, too. Oh, the things we endure.

*At least in some places. A couple of weeks ago Jill and I attempted to snowshoe @ 11,000 feet and had to carry our snowshoes. Every once and a while we'd see a little patch or two and strap them on out of principle, but it really wasn't what we had hoped for.