Last week was lovely! No really, it was. Birds singing and daffodils blooming beside my stoop. T-shirts and rolled up jeans for five days straight. I never knew a sudden burst of pollen allergies could be so liberating!
So what the fuck is your problem now? Why do I have to turn on my space heater again because it's twenty-nine degrees outside? Why am I having to break out the leopard-print gloves again when they were already deep into hibernation in my top dresser drawer?
Now - I am a cool weather person, don't get me wrong. I like jackets and layers and snow. It's all very lovely! BUT - I also like the idea of seasons. You know, the whole summer-fall-winter-spring thing. The idea that these three months here are vacations in the arctic, those three months over there are weekends on the sun, and the other six have pleasant temperatures somewhere in the middle.
I don't know if the groundhog saw his shadow this year, and I don't really care. I just want you to make up your fucking mind. Your fickle behavior is ruining the well-being of my nasal passages and causing my utility bill to soar to nauseating heights.
PS - I fucking hate Valentines day.