For the time being, while home-cooked comforts of Thanksgiving turkey, stuffing and mashed potatoes are fast disappearing from refrigerators of co-eds, the unseasonably warm weather savored this last week is slowly slipping away.
I feel I might jinx Western New York if I look too long at the national weather radar map.
For almost a week now, I roll out of bed, and after checking the all-important junk e-mail and seeing who changed their profile picture on Facebook, I hesitantly click onto the Yahoo! homepage and sneak a peak at the weather.
Rubbing sleep from my eyes, can it really be saying that temps will again near, if not surpass, 60 degrees?
I've heard a rumor that it's supposed to remain pleasant and unseasonably warm until the end of the week, and even my trusty website verifies this as fact. But these days, I'll take what meteorologists say with a grain of salt.
Case in point, October 13th.
But the sun that blinds me as I open the window shades day after day confirms that this rare phenomenon must be true, these picturesque days could have easily passed off as spring.
Whoever heard of such weather on the brink of December?
Not that I'm complaining. Give or take, with only 117 sunny days in a Buffalo calendar, temperate skies beat frigid snows and thick, treacherous sheets of ice hands down.
And not that I'm overly superstitious about these things either - I'm aware I have about as much control over the elements as the weather forecasters.
But a solid week of clement weather in Buffalo is just about as rare as walking around campus and managing to escape the constant chatter going back and forth about anti-war protesters and the anti-anti-war protesters.
Who wouldn't want to break out their lucky pink rabbit's foot just so the equilibrium of this world can be preserved for just a little while longer?
Don't underestimate the powerful balm this warm weather has for the psyche. Delicate cloud fibers stretched in wisps against a brilliant baby blue sky certainly never ruined anything.
Bottle these last few days and make a mint. Because in a town where rain falls in buckets for weeks on end, it's enough to escape for foreboding matters, if only for a little while.
Forget about moving back to the confines of your room at home after being on your own for three and a half years. Or that pinning down a successful career remains as illusive as winning the lottery.
Like breaking through a gloomy stretch, it seems it took a lifetime to find a steady patch of sun at UB.
From here on out, coming to terms with the fact that most of a paycheck will go straight into the pocket of the bank, it's about as appealing as taking a leisurely stroll between the Commons and Clemens Hall during a windstorm in February.
And knowing that within a matter of weeks, you'll be without health insurance for the first time in your life is downright alarming. Hopefully by this point, cavities will go into a permanent hiatus, the doctor will give me a lifetime warranty on a clean bill of health, and maybe freak accidents won't be severe enough to require hospitalization.
I think my roommate might be on to something. Her mantra is simple.
"If I don't think about it, then it won't happen," she insists.
She has a point. It's especially useful when you catch yourself dwelling on what ifs.
The lull before the storm is fast approaching, bringing closer final papers, projects, and exams, on top of a new life soon to begin. But the ability ponder these issues in short sleeves is almost compensation enough.
Oh well. In a way, the arrival of winter weather won't be all bad. It does make a whole lot more sense to go skiing or sledding in snow than it does in the sand after all.
