Mariners falter in finale, spring fails to materialize in bleak matinee

I write this as sunlight pours through my window. Despite this, the baseboard heater still creaks and groans, battling futilely against geography, trying to make the inside of my home feel like what April should feel like.

Winter is over, but Washington hasn’t gotten the memo. Nobody dares leave home without a coat, no matter how tantalizing the sunshine. My bare hands turn pale as I walk to school in the morning, and then quickly become pink and mottled as blood re-perfuses them once I’m indoors.

I, for one, am sick of this! We say it every year: this winter dragged on, and on, and on. It feels like we did our time, we’ve suffered enough, and it should be 70 degrees outside, doggone it. It…