Spring vs. winter

Schizophrenia (skitsəˈfrēnēə, skitsəˈfrenēə)
 
noun
a long-term mental disorder of a type involving a breakdown in the relation between thought, emotion, and behavior, leading to faulty perception, inappropriate actions and feelings, withdrawal from reality and personal relationships into fantasy and delusion, and a sense of mental fragmentation. 
(in general use) a mentality or approach characterized by inconsistent or contradictory elements.
origin
early 20th century: modern Latin, from Greek skhizein ‘to split’ +  phrēn ‘mind.’
According to New Oxford American Dictionary.
 
(Source:)
Do I need to say more?
OK, maybe a little bit of context will help. So, go reread the title of this column. That should explain everything. Now, do I need to say more? I thought not.
But I’m going to. You didn’t think you would get away from my innermost thoughts, did ya? In my mind’s eye, I can see a bunch of you sighing in resignation and saying to yourselves, “Not again!” At the same time, I see a few imaginary fans of mine jumping up and down and shouting at the top of  their lungs, “Not again!” But since I control my MacBook, I’m going to continue. So there!
I woke up on Wednesday morning, saw a robin in my front yard. Now, this is the third winter I’ve had to endure in the new North Pole (see “Santa relocates to Wyoming” in the News Letter Journal, December 26, 2019, page 17, for clarification — well … maybe, maybe not). I’ve been told that if I survived two or three winters here, I would probably choose to stay.
So, y’all are stuck with me. Neener, neener.
But that’s not the point. I saw a robin. Now a robin is a bird with a bright orange/red breast with letters painted on the red saying, and I quote, “SPRING IS HERE! YIPPIE!” At least that is what I saw. This probably is why I was dancing around in my yard last Wednesday. But it was all a tease. So, in retrospect, I’m glad nobody was about to see me dance. That would have been embarrassing. I avoid embarrassment at all costs. That’s why I write these stupid columns because that’s dignified.
I can see the weather gods up there laughing at me now. It’s like Heat Miser and Snow Miser have finally learned how to get along with each other, but they’re still mean little buggers. Instead of taking out their vindictive nature on each other, they’ve decided to go back and forth with us. If you don’t know who the Miser brothers are, watch ”A Year Without a Santa Claus.” That’s a very educational movie, and you’ll come away much wiser and make smarter choices for your life.
I was taking out the trash Wednesday night. It was a pleasant 40 degrees. And in between steps, everything changed. One step planted firmly on the grass. The very next step sunk into 4 inches of snow. What the hell is that?
But it didn’t last. Thursday was white when I first went outside. By noon, it was spring again. And we had a fairly decent weekend. That is until Sunday night. Heat Miser stepped aside, and Snow Miser leaped forward and firmly took to our state again. I woke up, and 150 feet of snow had covered everything! It is April 19 as I write this. Again I ask, what the hell is this?
I don’t blame the Miser brothers; I blame their mom, Mother Nature. She’s schizophrenic. Her mind is characterized by inconsistent or contradictory elements, and that’s definite. She’s over there, where ever ”there” is, thinking to herself, ”Let it be warm, let it be cold, let the sunshine in, white out the country, blather-blather-blather.” Personally, I’m sick of her whiny, nasal voice. I want to find out where she lives and send in the militia. Bomb her back to the dark ages and be done with her ever-changing attitudes. I don’t mind the changes, mind you. But can’t it be a bit less extreme? She swings back and forth way too much.
The snow is pretty, I will give you that. But on April 19 … I repeat... APRIL DANG 19 … I’m shoveling snow, scraping ice off the car, and freezing my butt off again! This is not March. It’s April! What is wrong with spring?
As I said, I don’t blame the Miser brothers, but I do wish they would grow a pair against their mom. But have you seen these guys? They’re wieners, backing down and grudgingly saying, “Yes, Mother.” Sick little buggers. And they’re weak. They have magic on their side, so that’s not where they are soft. But Heat Miser is a fat jerk, and Snow Miser is a skinny stick wearing a coat that has tails. What can you expect?
It is Mother Nature’s fault. Her control over her sons is absolute. And sure, the movie portrays her as a benevolent, if snarky, old woman who wants to make sure America gets to have Christmas. And that may be true. But I’m not an expert there.
However, I know that Christmas was four months ago, and Mother Nature doesn’t care now. I think she also dropped a bit too much acid rain, and I’m certain drugs do lead to schizophrenia. 
So now, we are here, getting ready to enjoy barbecue hamburgers and hot dogs and picnics on the lawn. But NOOOO! Some really high, old bitty decides she can’t make up her mind about what the weather should be, so she just goes back and forth and again and again.
In the words of George Carlin, “Tonight’s weather: Dark. Continued mostly dark throughout the night with widely scattered light in the morning.” Beyond that, who can tell? Welcome to Wyoming.