Every year it happens like something out of a horror movie, only made more terrifying by the twin facts that it's real and at first it seems like a blessing.
Following month after month of post-winter Boston weather suddenly a switch is flipped. The skies turn blue, birds sing, the temperature hits 70. After slogging through muck and murk since the previous October, grubbishly pale Boston residents stagger outside squinting in the sunlight. The winter gales slacken and the temperature creeps above 75, pushing 80 degrees. The birds sing, leaves appear on the trees and the streets fill with coeds in brightly colored sundresses. Truly this seems like a new Eden.
The next day, the mercury strikes 95. Sundresses are replaced with sunburns. The air turns green with pollen. Roommates fight over fans as indoor temperatures match those outside. Humidity reaches Amazonian levels. Anything foolish enough to step into direct sunlight is instantly incinerated. The Sissyphean changing of the seasons is past its peak.
Spring was nice this year. It lasted almost 2 days...
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