Weather forecasts in Oklahoma are typically educated guesses at best.
Most days the forecast will read something like this:
50% chance of rain / 50% chance of no rain.
50% chance of sunny skies / 50% chance of overcast skies.
50% chance of snow / 50% chance of not a damn thing.
And fully expect your favorite evening programming to be completely blocked out by 12 meteorologists sitting around doppler radars, panning from one to the other, "Julie, what's going on over there with you?"
"Well, Dan. It's looking pretty iffy in the Panhandle right now. We're keeping our eyes peeled for circulation. Over to you, George."
"Well, Julie and Dan, we're looking at LeFlore county right now, and our weather chasers are reporting some gravel-sized hail from a little cirrus cloud which appears to have eaten some cottage cheese a few days past the due date and is now suffering from some ice-like diarrhea."
Better out than in, I always say.
At the beginning of the week, our meteorologists reported a tornado outbreak of "epic proportions". Well. Since epic proportions are way more ginormous than regular proportions, let me clean out my closet and haul in the mattress. We are most certainly destined for tornadic doom.
Guess what? Nothing. Rain, some lightning, some cold weather, no tornadoes.
So when they began reporting 100% chance of snow for the weekend, I scoffed. I scoffed loudly, with co-workers, smoking in the 40 mph winds, making fun of the weather-forecasters.
"Dumbasses. Everything is a fucking weather emergency. I tell you this much... if they interrupt American Idol one more night for complete and total bullshit, I'm calling! I'll do it!"
(Disclaimer: I do not watch the consumerist-driven show entitled American Idol. I only named this show to prove a point.)
On the way out of the office, "So Extraordinary, do you think we're going to get all this snow they're talking about."
"Pssshhh... hell no. They suck."
"That's what I thought, too. I think I'm going to go home and weed and feed my yard."
"Good call, Mr. On-the-ball."
So I wake up Saturday morning and what do my eyes see, but a sky pissing snowflakes with a certain fury all over our landscape.
A land that had just experienced 3 or 4 days in a row of 70+ degree weather. A land that had just recently exhibited signs of resurrecting itself from the dead after a long, cold, shitty winter.
"WTF?" I asked myself.
Good thing I am lazy by nature and hadn't jumped the gun on planting flowers or mowing the lawn or weed and feeding or ozmocoting anything. I'd be totally pissed. Cause I rarely like to do a job over.
Oklahoma hasn't had snow all winter. Sure, we've had our share of ice and sheer butt-cold, but no snow.
Mother Nature is crafty like that. Several days of spring, the promise of a few shards of green grass, many, many weeds sprouting across the lawn, and the feeling of happiness for the first time since the winter funk set in and BOOM! "April Fools, Bitches!" Snow and ice across your state at the end of March.
But guess what, Mother Nature. The joke is on you. It's totally not April Fool's Day til Wednesday. Joke's on YOU, bitch. Come shovel my driveway.