Winter, I'm breaking up with you...

That's it. I've had it up to here with you, winter. I'm sick and tired of your attitude, and I'm breaking up with you.

We used to be really great friends, winter. When I was a fat kid, you used to be the only time of the year I felt comfortable to play outside, since every other season made me uncomfortably sweaty. I used to really love making snowmen, going for sled rides, skiing, tobogganing, and even sitting by the fire gazing out at your monochromatic majesty through frosty windows. You didn't make me wear a t-shirt in the pool to cover my gross fat ripples. You were the great equalizer. Everyone wore coats! I used to love to pull down the icicles you made drip from the sides of buildings, pretending to be a pirate, or a Jedi, or a space Jedi pirate. You were adventure!

Even when I grew up, you were a pleasure. Last year, you came and went and like a nice fling, I never really knew where I stood with you. You came and went so often. Was it global warming? You taught me to enjoy the time we had, so I even forgave when you dropped ten degrees below, freezing the pipes in the apartment below ours, and flooding our basement. I know it wasn't your fault, winter! You said so! And they were cheapskates who didn't pay for the gas to heat their place, so you taught them a lesson. I wasn't afraid of you, then, either. When you snowed, I knew that in a week or two, the roads would be clear of it and I wouldn't have to worry about potholes or slipping on the sheet of water that melts off and then re-freezes when the temperature drops back down to the teens. You were temperate and kind and when you left for spring, you didn't pull the trick of popping back down to freezing to kill off all the early budding plants. You just went, and my memories were fond.

Now, though, you don't leave. Like the Cranberries, you linger. You make lawns look like glaciers. You nearly broke my elbow when I fell on a sidewalk covered with a thin sheen of nearly frictionless ice. You make me feel unsafe walking under a large building. Sure, icicles look fun when you're a kid and they're hanging from the second story. Now, hanging from the fortieth story, they look like they could slice you to the bone. And they might. When did you turn murderous, winter? And why do you cost so much? When heating the apartment to livable temperature means sacrificing my kid's college education, I can only conclude you suck. What you've done to my car, between salt and potholes, is unforgivable.

Winter, I'm breaking up with you. If you don't take your snow and leave in the next two weeks, you'll be hearing from my attorney.