KNOW WORRES #9 - "The Cold Hard Truth About Winter"

It's time you knew...

I have something to tell you all. This isn’t going to be easy for me to say, and it may not be easy for you to hear. I don’t really know how to do this delicately, so I guess I’ll just go ahead and rip the bandage off. Man, this is tough. Okay, here goes…

I’m pretty sure I don’t like winter anymore.

I know, I know. I didn’t like the way it sounded the first time I said it either. It just seemed…wrong. It didn’t feel like me, you know? Me? Of all people? It sounded so strange at first, but I just kept saying it to myself, and eventually it started to sound like something I didn’t need to be ashamed of. And more importantly, it started to feel that way too. I’ve already told my parents, and they were very understanding. I’ve even texted a few friends, and honestly, everyone’s been really supportive so far. But this…well, this is a big step. And it’s just a little scary, so please be gentle in the comments.

Okay, deep breath. So, we’re gonna talk about this. We’re gonna sort this thing out, but first we need to define some terms. Firstly, when I say “winter,” I am not talking about the period from Thanksgiving through New Year’s. That is not winter. That is called the holidays, and it’s a magical time filled with family and potatoes and Muppets. I’m talking about winter, which is classically defined as all the cold and annoying and Muppetless stuff that follows. It’s like the shock of getting out of a nice hot shower but for three months straight. Winter is basically nutmeg. Like after Christmas is over, I’m sorry but I just don’t need you anymore. Shoo.

I want to like winter. I really do. But so far, January’s had all the charm of a Hoth truckstop, and I think I want out. I’m sorry, but it’s too cold and too gross and there’s just too many things to keep track of. A hat? A glove? Another glove? Where does it end? I do still like the idea of winter though—pretty white snow and hot cocoa and all that. But it’s a lot like the ocean for me. It’s nice to look at and I like being around it, but under no circumstances do I actually want to be init. Sure, it looks like fun, but I just know there’s gonna be all sorts of stuff down there trying to touch my feet, so that’s gonna be a hard no for me.

I used to like winter, just like I used to love the ocean. I mean, what kid doesn’t love snow forts and sledding and extra days off from school? This one certainly did. Those are three of the very best things there are, so why do I want nothing to do with them anymore? Is this just part of getting older? Maybe this is like learning to enjoy olives or feeling the light inside you die a little every time they introduce a new Batman. You know, normal grown-up stuff. I don’t know, I feel like I’m being brave here, but maybe this is just the beginning of my very own ride down the Aging-Northeasterner-to-Florida-or-Arizona-Resident pipeline? Certainly seems to be a popular road to travel.

And, you know what? Maybe those places have it figured out. Maybe seasons aren’t really all they’re cracked up to be. I mean, summer? Summer is basically the seasonal equivalent of someone leaving the big overhead light in the living room on for three months. Oh, I’m gonna be hot and sweaty and you’re gonna let all the schoolchildren run amok? Wonderful. And as for spring, I’ll let you know how I feel about Spring as soon as I stop sneezing and my eyes clear up from being allergic to the literal world. And autumn. Sweet, sweet, perfect autumn. Well, autumn isn’t actually a season at all. Debate me all you want, but that’s a science fact right there. Autumn is the baseline at which life is supposed to function, and the other three ‘seasons’ simply take turns ruining it.

And do you know what ruins autumn like every single time? Winter. The meanest of all seasons. Winter will kill your plants and rain literal chores from the sky, and sometimes, sometimes winter won’t even let you leave your house! Okay, that last one isn’t that bad sometimes. I guess one thing winter is good for is being cozy. Maybe bears really do have it figured out with this whole hibernation thing. I mean, they’ve essentially evolved to accommodate the notion that winter’s the only season that’s just not worth living through unless you’re cozy as fuck 24/7, and I’m here for it. Sure, we got thumbs in the great cosmic species lottery, but at what cost? Never forget what they took from us.

So, this winter, I took the bears’ advice, and I decided to hibernate. And as luck would have it, I found a beautiful old mountaintop hotel that was looking for a caretaker for the entire winter. I mean, how lucky is that? And me with so much to write and so little time. Finally, a chance to get my head straight. Finally, a chance to work. All work. All work all the time. All work and my incredibly annoying family. All work all the time and nothing else. All work and all these axes just lying around. All work and nothing else and my incredibly annoying family and all these axes lying around. All work and…

Anyway, that didn’t go great. Turns out winter’s too much of a pressure cooker for all that stress. And I think that’s really what I’ve come to dislike about it—the extra stress. Traffic, delays, shoveling, salting, illness, darkness, darkness, murder, darkness, murder. Like, what do you mean I have to scrape all the ice off my car just so I can go pick up food in order to survive? What is this, The Revenant? I mean, I barely survived that movie, so I’m not sure what makes you think I’m ready for several months of the real thing.

Let’s face it, as a species, we’re just not really cut out for this winter stuff. Like here’s some wax to put on your lips so you don’t literally bleed from the cold, you spoiled ape. And also, here’s a jacket made from an animal that actually knows what they’re doing in this climate. You should wear it or your useless baby-soft skin will probably freeze and turn black and die. But nooooo we just had to have “thumbs” do “taxes” instead. And now we have to develop “life hacks” just to make it through three cold little months with our sanity and our lips intact.

I’m, of course, talking about soup. The absolute king of food genres. The very best part about winter is that it’s the perfect context for soup. It’s like reading while there’s a gentle rain against your window. It’s how things are supposed to be. To this day, I’m still convinced it’s the reason we all don’t just fly south for the winter like the petulant little geese we are. It’s because soup is better in the cold. That’s science fact number two.

And as for science fact number three? Here it is: there are some good things about winter. But that still doesn’t mean I’m convinced. Snowball fights, for instance, are awesome. They’re basically the most amount of violence that you’re allowed to commit in any sort of pre-meditated fashion, and what’s not to love about that? Honestly, that’s an important lesson for a kid to learn in a “that’s actually kinda weird now that I really think about it sorta way.” They’re a rite of passage, but if I’m being honest, we don’t need them. I mean, just think of all the other things you can throw at a child. The possibilities are endless, and I’m sorry, but I just don’t see the sense in waiting for permission to fall from the sky.

Okay, please don’t throw things at children. Leave that fun for the other children. And I guess that’s really my biggest gripe with winter after all. It’s just not as fun as I remember it, and that always makes me a little sad for a few months. It’s all just a little more stressful and a little less wonderful, and I miss it being the other way around. And while I guess some of that is to be expected in life, that doesn’t mean I have to like it. It means I have to eat soup about it. Now, if you’ll excuse me…