The alarm went off at seven o’clock this morning, just as it does every morning in our house (except Fridays). I staggered out of bed. “It’s dark,” I said.

It was indeed dark: not just because the sun rose at four minutes to seven this morning, but because the clouds were thick and heavy and dark. Something was hitting the skylight.

“It’s raining,” I announced authoritatively, still swaying slightly and waiting for my eyes to fully open and come into focus.

“No it’s not,” said Carol, her voice muffled by the pillow. “I’ll bet it’s snowing. It’s supposed to snow this morning.”

As usual, Carol was right: that was snow, not rain, coming down out of those thick dark clouds.

“Blah,” I said, and stumbled off to the shower. The water in our apartment takes forever to get hot in the morning. I made the mistake of getting into the shower too soon. It wasn’t cold, but it wasn’t warm. Blah, I thought to myself.

I managed to get dressed and cook breakfast, but even the nice pot of hot tea didn’t cheer me up. I pulled on my winter coat and kissed Carol goodbye.

As I turned to walk out the door, she started to whistle:
“Oh the weather outside is frightful
But the fire is so delightful
And since we’ve no place to go
Let it snow, let it snow, let it snow.”

Suddenly my mood lifted. I whistled back:
“When it snows, ain’t it thrilling
Though your nose gets a chilling,
We’ll frolic and play the Eskimo way:
Walkin’ in a winter wonderland.”

By the time I went out the door, we were both whistling.

And sure enough, the sun came out by mid-morning.