You smell that? Pretty bad, right? Yeah, sorry, I’ve got the coffee farts and that’s just a preview of things to come (fart joke off the bat? Sure. Why not?). But now go outside and take a whiff, and smell something entirely different. Something quite pleasant. Something fresh, nature-y, and ushering in the rise from our winter slumber. Ah yes, spring is in the air. 

Well, not literally. True, spring technically begins on Friday, March 20th. But here in the city of New York we’ve only compiled about a week’s worth of actual spring weather. Oh, but that first day the temperature broke above 50 degrees was magical. People ran out into the streets wearing tank tops and shorts.  They haphazardly threw all of their winter clothes into whatever storage solution they had (my preferred method is trashbag hung from a tree). Who cares if the next day we had wind gusts of 20 mph and it was back down to 40? Spring was definitely, 100%, for sure here (right?).

Personally I don’t understand all the hubbub. I actually tried to ask one of the aforementioned tank-toppers “What’s all the hubbub, bub?” I learned that people no longer have an appreciation for Looney Tunes, and that when you’re 31 and quote Bugs Bunny you tend to lose friends. I mean sure, this winter was soul-crushingly brutal. We endured record snow. We braved bone-chilling temps. We had to delve into the deep cuts of our Netflix queues as we spent day after day hunkered down in our homes, ‘cause no amount of guilt for missing our besties’ birthdays could compare to going out in that (Sorry, Greg). In spite of that, I think people are forgetting what spring is truly like. 

The number-one thing people love about spring is the temperature. We can finally forgo the wool socks and scarves. While spring does mean warmer weather, it also means highly-variable temperatures. You grab a light jacket (ya know, a spring jacket), only to be freezing in the morning, way too hot/carrying a stupid jacket around during the day, and freezing again at night. And then the random spring shower rolls through and you’re completely screwed. I don’t deny that, when you do get those nice and perfectly temperate spring days, it can feel like heaven. Until you realize that it’s not Saturday and you can’t actually enjoy the weather because you’re just commuting to work (which, if you’re in a city, probably happens underground). And then, right at the tail-end, when the temperature has stabilized and you’ve finally shifted all of your social gatherings to outdoor events, you walk outside to treejaculate everywhere, your allergies give you a resounding “F-U,” and you have to run through a haze of pollen and itchy, watery eyes to the drugstore to re-up your prescription of weapons-grade Zyrtec.

Look, I don’t mean to Debbie Downer all over spring. Sure, I revel in any opportunity to complain as much as the next crotchety-old-man-trapped-in-a-spritely-super-svelte-body does. I do realize that there are some obvious perks to spring. Most notably, skin is once again bared with blatant disregard (I prefer the female version — though I’m sure seeing a hunk’s sculpted guns would be just as satisfying if that’s your thang). Nature comes alive and explodes with color. The trash smell gets masked every once in a while with fresh-plant smell. And to top all that off, I have a reasonable explanation for sweating again (“It’s not that I’m uncomfortable, it’s just warm out!”).

But my biggest gripe with spring is that when it’s 20 degrees and snowing, staying in your apartment all day is a totally-reasonable response. Staying in when it’s a sunny 60 and the birds are chirping makes you a hermit. Even though Netflix doesn’t get any less awesome when it’s warm out…