Mother Nature must have a sense of humor.
Last week she doused much of our holiday spirit with an ugly combination of snow, ice and bitter cold. Sunday morning she again tweaked us with a light rain that turned almost everything into a sheet of ice. Just walking to the car turned into an adventure.
Hey, it's winter. I don't like it (actually I hate it), but I get it.
So how do you explain this morning?
When I clambered down the steps this morning at the ungodly hour that I arise, I took my normal peek out the front door. Then I rubbed my eyes and tried it again.
I couldn't see a thing. Not even the cars in the driveway a few feet away. I flipped on the outside light. That only made things worse.
The culprit was a thick fog that would no doubt warm the heart of an ex-patriot Londoners.
When I ventured out, I was astounded at how warm it was. It's not a mistake. Just days after we had temperatures in the single digits, the thermometer is now approaching 60. That is not a typo. I know, I make enough of them.
Yesterday's spitting rain, combined with rising temperatures overnight and the thick layer of snow on the ground whipped up a serious case of pea soup-like fog. The morning commute was an adventure, to say the least, as I dodged from one pocket of thick fog, into a clearing, and back into the mist again.
I'm not complaining. I'll take fog and 60 degrees in January anytime.
That's the problem. It's not sticking around.
In fact, hard as it is to believe, by this time tomorrow, our temperatures are expected to tip 50 degrees. That's right. The brutal cold that has turned much of the Midwest into a popsicle is headed our way. Tomorrow we will struggle to get into the teens.
You can find the full forecast here.
I'm going to blame it on global warming. It's as good as any other reason I can think of.
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