Theory of Relativity II: The Storm of the ?

Damn it.  The storm of this Winter is not the one in December that forced weary travelers off the road and into my story "You Could Call It a Christmas Story".  That one was very nasty, but, let's face it, Friday's was a name-grabber.

It is cold here, today, in Naples, Florida.  Really, it is.  I turned the air-conditioning off.  Lila and Lucy Liu?  Both cats are snuggled up against my monitor for warmth.  I have on thick black woolly socks and Birkenstocks with my  pink and yellow Bermuda shorts and that is not a good look.  So you know how cold I am. 

Relatively.

Thanks, again, to Albert Einstein.

Who taught us that time and space are all relative and curvier than Megan Fox.  I proved in an earlier post that temperature is, too.  Along with that, of course, is comfort and its derivative down comforter. So I can be cold in 61 degree noon-Eastern Time and you can be cold in 18 degree snow drifts in Pittsburgh or 32 inches of the pretty crystalline white stuff in DC.

Back to the headlining snow storm. We can't call it the Storm of the Century, as that would be way premature.  I propose that we call it the Storm of the New Decade and the one on last December's 18th the Storm of the Old Decade.  Even if it is not a new decade, yet.

No, it is not. Not really.

We are supposed to count decades starting with a year One.  There were no zero back when time was first counted in periods longer than mealtime-to-mealtime.  There was still no even when the whole AD thing was started up in the wrong year and we started counting decades from that year One.  So, 2011 will be the first year of the new decade.

Only, this time, I'm siding with the folks who rigorously miscount.  I want that storied near-death-bad-night-in-a-Days-Inn experience to be caused by the Storm of Importance and Storm of the Old Decade tag is pretty good.  We can do this because time and decade-counting are relative and depend on where you stand in the Universe.

And I'd much rather be standing here in the near-white chilly sand than where a lot of other people are and in.  Sorry, too, but I'm turning up the heat again.  These woollies have got to go.