Punxsutawney Phil can go to hell. Actually, scratch that. That groundhog can go to Antarctica and look at his shadow all day long in the freezing cold. He can feel the shivering, goosebumped pain we have been experiencing for the past few months.

Last Sunday, the Pennsylvania native came out of his little tree trunk hut on Gobbler’s Knob and saw his shadow, thus sending a tsunami of bitter cold frowns across New England. Six more weeks of winter? That means six more weeks of teeth-chattering-scarf-toting-nose running-I-need-Campbell’s-soup-before-I-die cold.

Back in the heat wave in August I was begging for a cool breeze, but the 16 day below-freezing cold snap in January was too much. In August, I was dying to wear my sweaters and was already starting to stock up on winter wear.

I didn’t want to wear flip-flops on the dirty sidewalks anymore, but my feet were always way too hot, suffocating in sneakers. I needed winter, to be all snuggly and warm.

I take it all back.

The night before the groundhog saw his shadow, I went shopping at Cambridgeside Galleria. At Old Navy I bought four pairs of sandals, a T-shirt and a tweed skirt.

It must have been my optimism which made my purchase a practical one, and that rodent had to harm my hopes for warmth. I come home from a night out and I plug in my electric blanket because heat is too expensive.

There are people that suffer far worse than me I’m sure, but when you wake up and you can see your breath in your bedroom, layering tactics are needed. I miss having the heat of my on-campus housing, my apartment is so chilly.

Yesterday’s weather, a hair above 40 degrees, was a good break from the cold, and for that, I hope the little groundhog from Pennsylvania was merely playing a sick joke on New England.

I hope soon I can start wearing the dresses and sandals that have been neglected since September. Winter has been around too long for its own good.

— send comments to [email protected]