It's still February, so let's not get carried away. Just because we're out of the single digits and temps are expected to climb to around 50 degrees, just because the sun is out...does not mean I am ready to put away my big, long coat.
I know the window is closing. In only a few short weeks, this coat will no longer be socially viable. Come March, we will all be expected to dress as if the robin is on the wing, no matter how severe the wind chill is, and anyone lumbering around in full-length, puffy outerwear will be viewed as an oddball. Or a dork. Or a bag lady.
Some people run around outside in January without their coats on as if to prove they are superior. To the rest of us, though, they just look deranged. You can't tell us they actually enjoy arctic blasts whipping up their arse.We can see their goose pimples. My favorite thing about winter is how most sensible people get all bundled up like they're five years old. A 40-year old man sailing through the grocery store in a hat with big fuzzy ear flaps. Perfectly acceptable.
Come March, though, the ear flaps have to come off. The social order driven by the Darwinian impulses of our species demands it. Wearing winter garb too near the vernal equinox signals weakness, and is only allowed among the elderly. That is why March is my least favorite month. I'm still freezing my ass off, but I have to dress like I'm not.