How four degrees messed up my afternoon.
    On any other day, at any other place, and to any other person, four degrees would not have made much of a difference. At most, those four degrees would inspire someone to wear a light jacket instead of a T-shirt. To me, those four degrees meant much more. At the time, rain pelted the windows outside, sending torrents of water into the flooded stream in my backyard. Frantically, I refreshed the internet thermometer, and rushed upstairs to examine the outdoor unit. Both exhibited the same frustrating number: 35 degrees.
    I stared, listless, at the puddles of water on the deck and pictured them as piles of snow. Four degrees marked the difference between a dreary afternoon and a pleasant surprise.
    Throughout the day, I remained optimistic. Nevertheless, whether the glass was half empty or half full, it contained the same thing: Water. Any hopes that snow would fall were dashed by the warm consistency of the coastal system, and ice, too never appeared. Thus, I experienced a degree of frustration onset by four degrees of heat.