I would like to go on record and say this plainly, for the sake of future historians and anyone checking the archives: It is January. I am wearing shorts. To work. Not gym shorts. Not “I’m sick and don’t care” shorts. Real, intentional, I checked the weather and made an informed decision shorts.
This is not normal behavior for a functioning January.
January, traditionally, is the month that humbles us. It is cold for sport. It exists to remind Oklahomans that confidence is temporary and that wind will always find the smallest gap in your coat. January is when you discover that the gloves you bought last year are decorative only.
Instead, this January woke up and chose chaos.
I walked outside expecting to be slapped by reality and instead was greeted by mild sunshine and a breeze that could best be described as “pleasant.” No pain. No regret. No instant questioning of life choices. Just vibes.
That’s when I knew something was wrong. Because Oklahoma weather is not supposed to be reasonable in January. Reasonable weather is suspicious. It’s a red flag. It’s the weather equivalent of someone being overly nice in an email… you know there’s a catch coming.
And yet, there I was, knees exposed, daring the universe to say something about it.
No one did. That might have been the most unsettling part. No judgment. No raised eyebrows. No “Aren’t you a little cold?” Instead, nobody even noticed.
That’s how quickly society unravels.
January is usually when we all collectively agree to suffer a little. We put on layers like we’re armoring up for battle. We accept dry skin, chapped lips, static electricity, and the fact that our cars make noises they don’t make any other time of year.
This year? This year January is acting like it borrowed April’s homework and didn’t even try to hide it.
The weather man says things that feel fake. Numbers that belong to spring. Sunshine emojis where there should be ominous clouds. It feels like the weather is gaslighting us. David Payne hasn’t given us a single snow pep-talk.
And the confusion it has caused cannot be overstated.
Closets across Oklahoma are in crisis. You open the door and just stare, frozen. Not from cold, but from indecision. Is this a coat day? A hoodie day? A short-sleeve-with-a-backuphoodie- in-the-car-for-emotional-support day? The answer is yes.
All of them. At different times. Possibly within the same hour.
You scrape frost off your windshield in the morning and by lunchtime you’re cracking the windows. You start the day with a hot beverage and end it questioning whether it’s a sweet tea situation. You don’t know whether to make soup or fire up the grill.
The dogs are confused. They were promised winter naps. They prepared emotionally for snow. Instead, they’re being asked to go on walks like it’s April, and frankly, they’re not ready.
Farmers are staring at the sky like it personally owes them money. Parents are arguing with kids about jackets that technically aren’t necessary but feel spiritually correct. Somewhere, someone is putting away Christmas decorations while wearing flip-flops, and that should concern us all.
And still, we press on. Because this is Oklahoma. We have been trained for this. We do not panic. We simply say, “Well, this won’t last,” and keep our coats nearby just in case the weather overhears us talking and decides to punish our arrogance.
That’s the thing about Oklahoma weather… it takes things personally.
Enjoy the sunshine too much? Here’s a cold front. Plan an outdoor event? Have some wind. Put away your ice scraper? Surprise.
So while I wore shorts to work, I did so cautiously. Respectfully. Humbly. The boots are still by the door. The heavy coat is still within reach. I am not tempting fate any more than necessary.
I know better. Because tomorrow could be entirely different. Tomorrow could bring sleet, wind, and regret. Tomorrow could remind us exactly what month it is.
But today? Today January let us borrow a little comfort.
I’ll take it. I’ll take the sunshine. I’ll take the mild breeze. I’ll take the moment where winter blinked and we all pretended not to notice.
Just don’t ask me to trust it. I’ve lived here too long for that. Be kind to your neighbors, Be kind to your pets, Don’t trust the weather.