It's snowing again. Big, fat, fluffy flakes. If it were December or January or even February I might be enthused. But it's March. March 11 to be exact, and I'm sick of winter.
And so are a lot of other folks. At least, they are using the phrase. Got a chuckle out of Suz Redfearn's 2002 column. Was saddened by Annie's thoughts from 1999. Rachel has a whole blog dedicated to pregnancy using the phrase as her title. There is some artwork which represents the feeling in a dark and somewhat disturbing way. But my favorite comes from Jane Catoe:
"Thank fucking God, I'm not in Boston ... where I spent my very own winter of discontent. Which is where I learned the hard way, by not doing it, to cut my losses and move on. Which is where I learned that not every situation can be improved. Which is where I learned that it's a bad omen if you move to a city and get cussed out the first five minutes you're there. "
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