My apartment building is surrounded by four- to five-foot drifts of snow. Traffic on my street has been reduced to one asymmetrical, pockmarked road. Going outside feels equivalent to diving into the Arctic Ocean.

It's times like this that summer seems so far away, like a mythical, magical reality that happens to other people. How can February and August both exist in the same sphere?

Clearly, I didn't pay much attention during high school Earth science class. I was probably busy daydreaming about spaghetti straps and forgotten freckles and vitamin D. Which is exactly what I need right about now ...