Overblown

The meteorologists get me every single darn time.
Days in advance they start making ominous predictions about snow. The total snowfall expected increases with each update, and little red icons warning about "SEVERE WEATHER" pop up on my Droid.
And because I love big snowstorms, I get all excited, make sure there's plenty of seed in the bird feeders, check the weather map every hour to see if the blue area is swirling any closer, and open every conversation with an eager "Well, what do you hear?!"
And then: the storm shifts, or things don't play out as dramatically as predicted, and once again it's a total fizzle.
Here in southern Chester County on Wednesday, we were supposed to be on the line between getting 6 to 10 inches of snow and 3 to 5 inches. What we ended up getting was a little bit of rain and some gusty winds. I saw maybe three snowflakes.
But as a result of the inaccurate forecasts, "The Hot Club of Philadelphia," the Gypsy jazz concert scheduled at the Kennett Flash, was postponed "just to be on the safe side." (The organizer said she wasn't happy about having to cancel, but "the history of jazz is full of musicians crashing on their way to and from gigs!")
Sure, meteorology is not an exact science, and I can understand that some storms don't behave as predicted. But just for a change, I'd love to see the weather people acknowledge that fact instead of inevitably predicting the worse-case scenario as a certainty. Wouldn't that be a pleasant novelty?