I can’t believe how often the weatherman is goofing these days. It’s like they hardly ever get it right. At least in my neck of the woods. Don’t know about yours, obviously. It is SO annoying. Because I am NEVER wearing the right clothes.
When I have my umbrella, it doesn’t rain. Even though rain was predicted. When I go out without boots, it snows. Even though it was supposed to be sunny and relatively mild. Well, everything is relative. Mild for winter.
When the temperature is supposed to be plus 6 Celsius (42.8 Fahrenheit) and I go out without a hat, I end up freezing to death. Yesterday, the weather report I read said it was 1, but felt like minus 4. So I wore a warm sweater, a cashmere scarf and a hat. Plus a down-filled coat. I was melting. It was making me feel quite sick, actually. Faint. And queasy. And by the time I got back home, I needed a shower.
Why can’t they get it right?
The last three times we had snow, and I mean stormy — not a light dusting — it came totally out of the blue. Wasn’t expected. Wasn’t predicted. Wasn’t reported. Gusting, blowing snow. You’re going to tell me, no one saw it coming?
Between technology and science, today we can do just about anything. We can perform surgery remotely. We can drive electrically-powered cars. We’ve cloned animals. We can journey, virtually, anywhere in the world. We can now own a 3d printer at home. I can send a document from my iPhone directly to my printer. Apple is supposedly working on a watch that will talk to your phone.
But we can’t get a weather report right?
A hundred years ago, when I was a child (slight exaggeration), weather forecasting was more accurate than it is today. And back then, what did we have to go on? The weather guy did little more than go outside, lick his finger and stick it in the air. And he scribbled on a black board.
Now we’ve got gizmos and gadgets and weather maps and hygrometers. We’ve got dopplers and radiosonde and anemometers and ceilometers and satellite images. Evaporimeters and weather charts and rainguages. Radar. Computers. Formulas. Measurements. Rules. Observers and experts and meteorologists all over the world.
Umpteen different types of forecasting. Synoptic. Statistical. Computer. Mapping. Even nature.
And I can’t remember the last time I was dressed appropriately for the weather. No wonder everyone’s sick. And I do mean everyone. God, every where you turn someone’s coughing or sneezing in your face. People are dropping like flies. I’m at the point now, where I don’t want to get too close to anyone. No shaking of hands. No kissing on cheeks, or anywhere else for that matter. No hugging. No eating off the same plate. No sharing of dessert, either.
Keep your distance, Buster. Better yet, do us all a favour and stay home. If you’re not feeling well, drink plenty of fluids, get into bed (alone, thank you very much) and stay there. Write me a letter, instead. Send me an email. Text me. Call me. But do not come near me. Keep your bacteria to yourself. Okay?
Because so far, so good. Knock on wood. And I’d like to keep it that way. Know what I’m sayin’? Afraid to spell it out for you, in case I jinx myself. Know what I’m sayin’?
Good. Glad we understand each other.
Frankly, I’m tempted to just do a Howard Hughes. Become a complete recluse. Just live by myself, with my furry friends, in a germ-free zone. Perfectly climate-controlled, too.
At which point I won’t give a damn about the weather. Let it snow. Let it snow. Let it snow.