The ink is barely dry on the "I Survived Snowvember" T-shirts and already the horrors of the almost weeklong cold snap have melted away - like so many grass- and dirt-encrusted boulevard snowmen in the rain.
Time to pat ourselves on the backs with warm, un-mittened hands, Vancouver. We did it. Four days of single-digit-below-freezing temperatures and we pulled through.
The store shelves are full again. The chain stores have restocked. Space heaters, snow shovels, road salt and inventories of snow tires are once again being replenished.
The lights are on, Canada Line passengers are no longer marooned in the middle of a bridge.
The mayor didn't call in the army.
It started as these things often do: with a warning from the Environment Canada Weather Office that something called an Arctic outflow was bearing down on us, one that in this case carried with it the promise of snow. Up to two centimetres of it for certain, but in a worst-case scenario five, maybe even 10 centimeters depending on altitude.
And we know this is a La Nina winter, a rough translation of which amounts to: "You will almost certainly die in the snow."
Cue Murray Wightman, the man who commands the city's formidable snow-clearing fleet. A man who each year poses patiently at the city's Manitoba works yard for reporters who have drawn the short straw. "Murray, just how ready is the city for a catastrophe such as this?"
We are assured that the three plows, the dump trucks retrofitted with salt spreaders, the snow blower, are all ready for deployment. And this year, a new addition - a mini-plow that not only clears the bike paths but also applies a salty brine to their surface. Sidewalks? Sorry, homeowner: That's up to you.
Then to Translink where we are reminded of the existence of "guideway intrusion alarms," and promised that attendants will be aboard every train to ensure that should such an alarm be activated by the presence of a few flakes on the tracks, the system will not grind to a halt.
We are further reminded that trolley buses equipped with special ice cutters will keep the overhead lines ice-free and buzzing with current through the night.
Then, interviews with various homeless-shelter operators, for whom the topic of bad weather is a serious issue.
But also with civic officials, airport and hydro types, tire store managers, plumbers, ski hill operators, food and beverage experts and random people standing outdoors.
The first soggy flakes looked impressive in the glare of the headlights, but they didn't stick.
Then last Saturday, we awoke to a winter wonderland. What was ordinary and dull glistened white and silver in the morning sun. The dark cloud pressing against the North Shore mountains only made the scene more impressive, like the world had been turned inside out, a black and white negative.
Hell, even the Grandview Highway looked nice.
And then came the cold. The sort of cold that prompts people to dig up clothing actually designed for the Canadian climate. Stuff packed away in trunks, from a long-ago life in Toronto or Regina.
Record-breaking cold. For one day anyway. The not-quite-record-breaking cold, though, persisted for the better part of the week. Then more snow on Thursday, followed by rain.
More stories: Keep your pets indoors, how to protect your skin, and how to heat your newly constructed urban chicken coop safely with a hot-water bottle or by placing a light bulb underneath an overturned terracotta pot.
Meanwhile, the city divides itself into two distinct camps: the over-reactors and the deniers.
The deniers continue wearing shorts and T-shirts. They pretend not to feel the cold, all the while secretly trying to scavenge heat from their iPhones or, worse, from each other through fist bumps and man hugs.
The over-reactors dress for a trek to the South Pole: fur-lined snorkel parkas, ski pants, sub-zero Gore-Tex gloves, hot shots, gators and Sorels. Wraparound sunglasses to avoid snow blindness and thick gobs of petroleum jelly applied to their faces.
All week the weather is the only topic of conversation. Carole James wins the confidence of her party (sort of), Liberal leadership candidates announce their intentions, the date of the royal wedding is set, Ireland collapses and Sarah Palin doesn't know which Korea is which. A Christmas Market explodes.
Man it's cold. Brrr.
Well, it was.
Stephen Quinn is the host of On the Coast on CBC Radio One in Vancouver on 690 AM and 88.1 FM.