No, I’m not even going to open this letter by calling you “dear”. Because you are not dear. Not by the end of March.
You’re hanging on too long. You need to learn how to let go. Land the plane, Winter.
You, my not-friend, are like a novel that I just wish would end. You started out okay with Christmas. Gave us a drama filled middle with all the arctic blasts and snow days. But then, you gave us way too many false endings. Too many unfulfilled teasers.
The problem? At this point, with a novel, I can skim to the end. Or donate the stinking thing to the library.
It’s time to wrap it up. Take your gloomy skies and frigid air (they weren’t likable characters, anyway). Give us a little resolution with the return of warmth and sunshine (they really should have been given larger parts).
Nobody’s impressed by how you’re going on and on, here. So. Just end it.
Susie…And most everybody else.
What about you? Are you sick of winter? Ready to get on with Spring? Ever read a novel that just would NOT END?