Nothing is more boring than talking about the weather: what it’s going to do, what it might do, what “they” said it was supposed to do and then never did. All of this prattling makes me crazy and doesn’t even count as small talk in my book. That said, The General takes a keen interest in all-things-weather and yet, strangely is rarely satisfied. He is, in fact, A Goldilocks for All Seasons. There are approximately three days during the year when he will admit to the weather being “not too bad” and suitable for whatever it is he needs to do.
I recently pointed out that although he complained hourly last winter about blowing snow, frigid temperatures (or, as the weather-nerds will have it, The Polar Vortex) as soon as the spring sun began to warm the earth and I tried to lure him outside to a sheltered, sunny nook on the deck, he shook his head rapidly, shocked, saying it was far too wet and besides, “they” had said it was going to turn cold again that night. In summer, of course, it’s usually too hot, dangerous even, to be in the garden for too long and where was that sunscreen/hat/protective eye wear anyway etc.