As if this time of the year right after Christmas wasn't tough enough, now talk of a "bomb cyclone"?
Are you kidding me?
I've heard of blizzards and nor'easters, arctic blasts and polar vortexes, but what the heck is a bomb cyclone?
I guess a lot of us are about to find out, and I mean more than 200 million of us. That's the number of Americans in the path of this monster storm that will likely ravage coastlines from Maine to Georgia, beginning bright and early tomorrow morning.
It is not just all the ice and snow. It is called a "bomb" because the storm's pressure will fall so fast that it will feel, well, like a bomb.
That big. That's explosive.
And yes, that cold.
I'm talking bone-chilling, skin-freezing, who-needs-Botox-helping, unprecedented, breaking-weather-records cold. Forget 10 degrees in New York, or 9 degrees in Boston.
Try 14 degrees in Atlanta, 8 degrees in wide swaths of Alabama, and Mississippi and Louisiana.
Ice and worse in the Carolinas.
Snow in the Florida panhandle.
No, my friends, this is no Mickey Mouse storm. Which could explain why the folks at Disney World aren't Mickey-mousing around. They are closing their water parks.
Not because of a hurricane but because of this.
You try lounging on a lazy river frozen solid!
At least this time, "Blizzard Beach" really will be blizzard beach.
But why all of this now? During this, the most depressing time of year as it is?
It's true. I'm told the weeks immediately after Christmas are the equivalent of a big emotional letdown for almost everybody. The excitement and frenetic pace of the holidays behind us.
Now, weeks of daunting New Year's resolutions and frigid weather ahead of us.
Psychologists say this is peak cabin fever time.
And peak divorce time too, sad to report. Apparently couples are more likely to split in the weeks right after the holidays than any other time of the year.
More apt to file papers in the snow than hope for a renewed relationship zing in the spring.
To quote President Trump, "sad."
Because that is the real bomb here. The harsh reality it's over: the get-togethers, the cookies, the gifts, the cookies, the times with family, the cookies.
Now don't that take the cake? And no cake either!
Time to pack up, and suck it up.
Or should I say, "cyclone."
As if we need a storm to remind us it ain't Christmas anymore.