Dear Winter

Dear Winter,

Remember when we met? It was a long time ago, when my unsuspecting immigrant parents moved from a really hot place to Canada and took the kids with them. Did they know you threw freezing cold weather parties about six months throughout the year and forced them to attend without their consent? Um, no. Like all immigrants, they thought leather jackets sufficed in this weather, that scarves were for revolutionaries, gloves for wedding ensembles, and simply refused to sacrifice style for your cold boogies. Eventually, they learned. Scratch that, my father still wears a leather jacket. My mom just gave up on style period and it wasn't because of you, it's because she got a boring job.

Well any way, the reason I am writing you this letter is because it's March now and I know you have a few weeks before you leave for another few months or so but do you consistently have to throw -35 degree weather parties in my foreign face? I mean seriously, like, cut us some slack here, you should've saved these bitter cold days for January and February, which were so last month. Like sometimes you send out invites to your cold parties a few weeks and/or months earlier than you are supposed to and make me have to wear socks and shoes, then my winter coat, which has no lining anymore. And then when we think it's all over but you come back for another round. Oh and let's not talk about those "mock" invites you give to the weather channel, they are never accurate, ya know? When will your partying addiction stop? For God's sakes, I want to take my winter jacket off, is that too much to ask?

Love love,

The one that's been hatin' on your cold behaviour since back in '88 (uh huh, uh huh and I don't quit).