It’s one of those days where everyone walks around with their hoods up (if they are so fortunate as to have one) and their faces facing down, away from the pelting, abnormally piercing snowflakes that are flying sideways today. It’s one of those days where most people are inside. Actually, unless you’re one of those people unfortunate enough to be in the pelting snowflakes, you are most definitely inside.
You’re probably praying that your shift at work will be cancelled tonight, too.
Maybe you’re also trying to convince yourself that when you say, “DANG, it’s cold outside,” it’s not really complaining. And yes, the snowflakes ARE piercing.
There’s a pretty fine line between complaining and stating the facts, but I think there’s a place for both. In my estimation, complaining includes a little bit of a whiny tone. You may look a little wistful or disgusted. Or perhaps you rant for a bit. Rants are always complaining.
Then there are comments, often said in a surprised tone: “Look, the snow is coming down really hard on that car outside. I bet it will be unpleasant when we leave this warm building.” Or in a resigned tone, “Well, I need to go brave the snow now.”
Today it’s cold outside, but it’s warm in the library. I have a paper to write, but I’d rather write that than be forced to stand outside for more then half an hour while the snow continues to pester the world.
Oh Jesus, if you just wanted to bring spring… Not that I’m complaining. Winter kills the bugs.