Putting up with the 5 stages of our miserable, so-called summer

The smiling land has settled into a grimace, as Newfoundlanders and Labradorians grit their teeth and attempting to bear it through the month that has officially been renamed "Julyuary."

The weather is so miserable, we all just want to book a flight to get out of here.

• Ryan Snoddon arrested for trafficking rain, drizzle and fog
• Julyuary hits N.L. with a vengeance, but province takes it in stride

But, alas, the St. John's airport is renovating it's main runway, during the unfortunate intersection of peak tourism season and surprise peak fog season.

We can't escape the bad weather because the weather is too bad for us to escape.

I know the government is trying to boost the provincial population, but I don't think holding everyone hostage is the best plan.

Tourists are trapped here while Cabot Tower is closed for renovations and the Bowring Park swimming pool is shut down.

Then again, the archeological dig on Portugal Cove Road is starting to rival Ferryland.

I hope that big new convention centre under construction in downtown St. John's is really a top-secret Ark. Two moose, two puffins, two humpbacks, but no matter how many people are on board, DFO says we get exactly 15 codfish.

A whole summer of May 2-4 weather

Even the Liberal Party's "Road Ahead" campaign rig is on its own. Poor old Dwight Ball is the only one in an RV this summer. You know it's bad when the gravel pit camping crowd stay home – this is a whole summer of May 2-4 weather.

But the candidates and campaign tours don't matter. Mainlanders keep bellyaching about their heat wave, so I'm voting for whichever party promises temperature equalization between the have-summer provinces and the have-not-summer provinces. When Brian Peckford said "One day the sun will shine, and have not will be no more" I hope he was being literal.

This will taper off into Acceptance as you say, "Shag this, I'm booking a ticket to Florida!"

But until then, we're all stuck here, grieving together for the loss of the summer that never was.

So, here is our long-range forecast.

Overnight you'll be in Denial. Friends will say, "Oh sure, it'll clear up in time for the George Street Festival" and you'll buy that new barbecue for when it gets nice. Those who "dress for the weather you want, not the weather you have" will adorn shorts and tank tops.

This warming trend will dissipate by morning as we transition into …

Anger. You'll chase Ryan Snoddon through Costco and try to crush him under the giant pallet of sunscreen you bought in May but can't return because you opened it just to remind yourself what summer smells like.

Over the weekend, a Bargaining front will appear. You'll vow to Mother Nature that if she gives you just one Sunny Saturday, you'll never ask for a white Christmas again. And you'll promise never, ever, ever to complain during future heat waves (you'll break that one).

By Monday, all your highs will become lows as we settle into Depression. You'll be hiding under a blanket, watching your own tears freeze.

This will taper off into Acceptance as you say, "Shag this, I'm booking a ticket to Florida!"

But when your flight is cancelled after a six-hour wait, and you have been diverted to the un-tropical destination of Gander, expect a heavy anger front to move back in.