Evicting Winter

If you're like me, you may feel that winter has overstayed its welcome this year. I recall a similar notion entering my mind last March, as well as the one before that, so in reality, the present circumstances may be fairly normal. But I am quite fed up and have decided to take matters into my own hands. If only it were as easy as writing a simple eviction notice...I do so love talking things out.


Dear Friend:

I've held my tongue for as long as possible, but find I can no longer remain silent in good conscience. You have been an exacting house guest these many months and, though I have enjoyed certain aspects of your company, I simply must ask that you move on.

Since I know you'll be back again next year, and will certainly be staying elsewhere in the meantime, I feel compelled to offer a word or two of advice. I share these words of wisdom in the hopes that you will employ them in the future to assist you in perceiving when it is time to move on. You wouldn't want to alienate your hosts, of course, and to that end, it's in your best interest to depart quietly before you have overstayed your welcome. You never know when you'll find yourself in need of hospitality. 

There are several clues you should be looking for when determining your departure:

When you can't drive to the store without unwittingly entering a twisted game of minefield, where the punishment for driving over a pothole is a flat tire, a loose bumper, or worse...that's when you know it's time.

When babies scream bloody murder at the prospect of entering a car when they mistakenly believe they've been bundled up for some much-needed time outside...that's when you know it's time.

When wallets everywhere will soon be empty as the time comes to settle up the bill with the oil-delivery man...that's your cue.

When bleary-eyed mothers walk with a gaggle of stir-crazy kids into a store, not even registering the deafening decibel level of their brood, you will know they've been broken by the months of sound torture. It's time.

When waistlines everywhere have swollen, threatening to burst through the jackets holding them in after months of hiding under bulky sweaters, scarves and coats have convinced their owners that they're the same size they were when you arrived, you should think about packing up. It's time.

When your host, deprived of a park to get her kids' energy out transforms her living room into a jungle gym, using a huge plastic outdoor slide and an exercise trampoline, and is, furthermore, happy to keep the arrangement indefinitely despite its interference with her trendy decor, that's when you know it's time.

So, dear guest, while I have enjoyed being able to leave my milk in the trunk of my car without it spoiling before I get home, and I have certainly gotten my money's worth out of those super-cute and cozy winter boots, the time has come for me to politely ask that you leave.

Please pack up your things and move on quietly or I will be forced to employ more drastic measures.*


Respectfully yours,



The Bleary-Eyed Mom



*Said measures have yet to be determined. You'll just have to trust me when I say they won't be pleasant.