Bring on the cold, bitch

I sneaked up on you again, didn’t I? You were seduced, as always, by the holiday season, so enchanted with the cheer in the air that you didn’t even notice the creeping chill in that very same air.

I know because I was watching. I’m always watching. All those long, hot summer nights when you were riding your little bicycle around, complaining about the heat and humidity, you thought I wasn’t listening, didn’t you? You thought I wasn’t plotting my icy revenge, conjuring up storms from the highest reaches of the frosty atmosphere, summoning up the most punishing cold from the frigid depths of the deepest seas.

Well you were wrong again, bitch! Because Christmas is over, Hannukah has concluded, Kwanzaa has come and gone, the New Year is racing along and now it’s just winter, and winter’s going to last for a long time, honey, so you better get used to it.

I saw the look on your face this past week as it dawned on you that all the holiday magic has evaporated from the air along with any hint of moisture (you better lotion up that dry skin, bitch!). I’ve watched as you’ve shuffled around the city in your giant coat and salty boots, passing by Christmas trees that once festively filled homes, now laying horizontal on the sidewalk, loosely covered in plastic like dead bodies, drenched in dog piss, all used up and discarded just like your excitement for this season.

The first snow was a thrill, wasn’t it? I saw you walk through the hushed streets and marvel at the peaceful quiet, so enchanted with the fat globs of frozen water falling out of the sky and onto your down-jacketed shoulders. That snow has since thawed and several new layers have not only fallen, but been muddied, mixed with trash and drenched in, you guessed it, dog piss.

In case you haven’t figured it out yet (catch up, girl!) the most wonderful time of the year is over. No more gifts to look forward to, no more trinkets to collect for your loved ones, no more kindness from strangers, no more cookies shaped like elves or warm boozy drinks or caroling (not that anyone actually does that anymore). From now until April, you’re just going to be, well, really fucking cold.

And this is still only the beginning. You say you’re an introvert? Well, I’ll make you stay indoors, isolate you until you become so desperate you rejoin Tinder just to feel the swipe of your screen under your lonely fingers. You say you like the cold? I’ll punish you for that foolish statement, slap you in the face with temperatures so violent they make your ruddy cheeks ache. You say you like seasons? I’ll make this one particular season last longer than you ever remember it lasting before because when it comes to winter, you have the memory span of a goldfish. Every year, your weak little mind blocks out the cold in the interest of self-preservation the second you see a single bud on a goddamn tree.

So hide your children, cover them in layers upon layers of wool and fleece. Bury yourself in a pot of piping hot soup. Queue up the Netflix, pull up your blankets, throw out all your plans and prepare to get blasted (by the cold). Happy 2018 motherfucker—it’s going to be fucking freezing. Winter has arrived, and I’m not going anywhere, bitch.