It's called ...

Post Traumatic Snow Disorder.

It's all too soon, too much. It feels like this was just weeks ago.
My Christmas cards are ordered, we've figured out most presents, I'm fighting the urge to put up the trees; it's beginning to look a LOT like Christmas.

Me: "The Juncos are back!"
Beloved: "Are those the little chubby ones?"
Me: "Yes! The ones that like to get themselves locked up in the garage a lot!" *walks into garage* *has to rescue a Junco from flapping itself to death against the garage window*


Tomorrow morning's expected wind chill 0F (-18C)