Me?
I’ve had it.
Enough. Seriously.
I bet he’s enjoying himself.
I bet he’s down there right now… kicked back… feet up… cozy in his little burrow Airbnb… central heat, zero wind chill… surrounded by woodland buddies.
Probably sipping hot cocoa.
Looking outside.
Laughing.
LAUGHING.
AT US.
We’ve been good to him.
We gave him a name.
Not just “Groundhog #7.”
No. We humanized him.
Phil.
We gave him merch.
We gave him a parade and marching bands.
We gave him his own holiday.
HIS. OWN. HOLIDAY.
Meanwhile I can’t even be considered a local in my own town without submitting paperwork in triplicate.
And this furry meteorologist decides he’s in charge of my emotional well-being for SIX MORE WEEKS?
Sir.
You weigh 12 pounds.
You eat roots.
You live underground.
And somehow YOU control my spring?
Now look — I’m not one for harming animals.
I’m a lover. Not a fighter.
But there comes a time…
When a man has to do what a man has to do.
It’s too late for this year.
What’s done is done.
But next year?
Different story.
Every February 2nd this Phil guy pops up in Punxsutawney like he’s the CEO of Weather Incorporated.
Oh you saw your shadow?
Cool story, woodland Nostradamus.
I’ve got things to do.
I have outdoor projects waiting.
I have lumber sitting in the garage judging me.
I have a pool cover that needs to come OFF.
I cannot emotionally handle six more weeks of “gray.”
So here’s the plan.
Next year I gather the guys.
We meet at the Quick Stop.
(Yes — that Quick Stop. The fried chicken beacon of hope in Milton DE.)
Breakfast sandwiches.
Coffee.
Mild irritation.
We form a posse.
Then we take a little road trip.
Up to Pennsylvania.
We’re not hurting him.
Relax.
We’ll just… talk.
Maybe bring him some fresh produce from Food Lion.
A peace offering.
We’ll sit him down.
Phil.
Buddy.
Pal.
Let’s discuss the pros and cons of ruining March.
Let’s talk about morale.
About Vitamin D deficiency.
About men staring longingly at unopened grill covers.
This isn’t personal.
Ok, perhaps it is a bit personal.
It’s seasonal.
Because enough is enough.
You don’t get to control my mood with a shadow and a shrug.
And if you think I’m overreacting?
Let me ask you something.
Was it over when the Germans bombed Pearl Harbor?
WHO’S WITH ME?!?!
My Take on Life and Events 